IT TAKES TWO--PG Version by Fojiao2
by Babyverse Krewe
Summary: AU The Pride & The New Scourge. Answer to Babyverse Challenge. Angel and Baby have lost their souls--but in what condition will they be returned? PG VERSION--harsh language, violence, and only suggested sex.


**TITLE: IT TAKES TWO (PG-Version)**

**AUTHOR:** Kevin A. Poston (Fojiao2) 

**DISCLAIMER:** The characters used here do not belong to me and are not being used to make any profit whatsoever. They belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. And Baby is a character belonging to Ebony Silvers. 

**SUMMARY:** Baby and Angel lose their souls; but in what condition will they be returned? Story takes place in the Babyverse. 

**RATING:** PG-15 (for language and violence, and suggested sexuality) 

**FEEDBACK:** You're damn straight! "Willow—service me!" 

**DEDICATION:** For the lovely and talented Ebony, who brought the Babyverse to life. Without her I wouldn't be nearly so addicted to Buffy Fanfic and might be out making money or something equally stupid. Thanks for saving me from that, Ebs, you livin' doll! 

**THE CHALLENGE: **In the BabyVerse, write a story (long or short, plot or not) where Angel & Baby lose their souls (you don't have to explain how). You can kill off anyone you want to (including Spike, Cordy, Buffy, Baby, Angel, etc.). Wes losing his soul is optional (can be before or after he is vamped). Include the following as either an item or a phrase: an explosion, a drawing. There is no deadline, and the results will not be considered BabyVerse canon (hence the being able to kill off people) so you can pretty much do whatever you want. All ratings (G through NC17) are acceptable. 

**LOS ANGELES, May 2017—1:15 AM**

            Spike burst through the front door of the Hyperion. already shouting: "Cordy! Get the damn box! Now!" 

            Cordelia didn't need to ask which box. It had taken up a prominent place in her nightmares since the Scourge first devised it. Those nightmares had lessened over the years as she became more convinced it would never be used. Now the worst day of all days had arrived. Her hands were shaking as she brought the box out from the rear of the office and looked over the counter to see Spike and the two people he'd brought with him. 

            They looked almost the same: that was the worst part. Baby and Spike had accompanied Angel earlier that evening to stop a small coven of warlocks Cordy had seen in a vision. She'd stayed up to hear how it went. Now it was only three hours later and Spike had come back with someone else: Angelus. Cordy saw someone who wore the mask of the man she loved, her husband and mate. But the eyes belonged to a stranger, a laughing, mocking, sadistic bastard who'd played many a role in her nightmares as well. And he was back, after everyone had thought he was gone for good. He was in handcuffs but secured in no other way—although there was a small cartridge on a string around his neck. A ring that projected from the cartridge was connected by another string to Spike's hand, and Spike pulled the soulless vampire forward with it. 

            Beside him was what looked like Baby, but she also wasn't the stylish, confident vampiress who had left the hotel. She'd come back with deep scratches on her arms and face, cuts that were still oozing blood. She was in game-face, and the look in her yellow eyes was not the threatening or sensual or caring kind that always seemed to flow from Baby. It was insane, purely manic, and was reflected in the way she constantly gnashed her fangs. She struggled against the chains wrapped around her, a precaution Spike had taken before he brought them back to the hotel. He held one end of the chain in his other hand. 

            Cordy pushed the box across the countertop and said, "What the holy fuck happened?" 

            Spike only grunted as he took the box. It was the size of a folded chessboard, with yellow and black tape stretched around it. A sign on the top said in neon red letters: OPEN IN CASE OF ANGELUS. Spike broke the glass shield over the lock and swung the case open. Besides the stakes and holy water inside, there was a handheld device with a screen and several  buttons that Spike retrieved before closing the box. A sophisticated tracking device had been installed inside Angelus, and the locator device Spike held would allow him to follow no matter where his grandsire ran. He was betting he could straighten everything out before the vampire even had a chance to escape, but with Angelus it was always best to hedge one's bets. 

            "I'll tell ya," Angelus said with a smirk. "I came to my senses, baby. I want us to adopt. A couple o' nice, fat humans to graze on for a while." 

            "Shut it," said Spike in a weary voice, a phrase he'd obviously been uttering for some time. 

             "Oh, I don't think so. I got me a new audience here," Angelus began, when Spike gave a yank to the line in his hand. The cartridge around Angelus' neck pulled up, the ring in it jingling. The vampire shut up. 

            "You know what's around your neck," Spike stated. 

            "Incendiary grenade," Angelus said through gritted teeth. 

            "And you know what I'll do if you give me any provocation." 

            The bad, bad vampire's smirk was back. "I know what you say you'll do. But killin' yer own grandsire, son, it's not what I'd expect from even you." 

            Spike got into Angelus' face. "Don't push it," he growled. "We both know I'm not your 'boy' anymore. I can drag you into the sun with me and watch you dust in my arms. And I'm twice the fighter I was the last time we tussled. Tempt me and I'll keep you alive exactly long enough for my childer to arrive, so they can hold you down while I stake your sorry ass. It'll be just another Aurelius family barbecue." 

            Angelus lost his good humor at the look in Spike's eyes. Over his shoulder he could see Cordy's face twist in mounting horror. Looking directly at his wife, he said, "Well at least let me screw Baby again. I haven't had a good fuck since I took her in Sunnydale." Spike was as good as his word: Angelus never saw Spike's fist until it had already smashed into his mouth and made him stumble back. The boy really had gotten good. 

            But there was only one top dog. Making the blow look more painful than it was, he brought his arms up, and noted that Spike let some slack out on the line so Angelus wouldn't accidentally immolate himself. That gave him his chance: he shot to the side and brought his arms around the tightly-bound form of Baby. He hugged her close, though her head writhed around and tried to bite him. "Go ahead and pull your string, William!" Angelus cried. "We'll both go up! It'll make a nice snapshot for the family album, eh?" He smirked triumphantly as Baby tried to take a bite out of his arm. 

            Spike looked up, almost as if considering prayer—but really he was considering the high ceiling of the hotel's lobby. It gave him an increased range of options. He dropped the chain and the string at the same time and launched himself ten feet up into the air. Angelus watched him go up, and the end of his parabola was clear. He tried to leap out of the way, but Baby's dead weight prevented him from moving. 

            Spike brought his boot down directly on Baby's forehead, which knocked into Angelus' face, and both vampires' heads were brought crashing into the tile on the lobby's floor. Spike stepped nimbly away, after knocking unconscious the two people he most cared for in the world. Cordy rushed over to the two limp bodies, dragging Angelus' hands away from Baby, making sure the grenade hadn't had its ring pulled in the fall, making sure neither of them had broken their necks in the fall, also. She was already weeping, and her sobs wracked her body as she caressed her lover's face, for when he was unconscious he looked exactly like her Angel. 

            Internally, Spike was weeping himself, and putting his fists through the walls of his interior landscape. But he couldn't let it show. There was too much to do, too much that he had to look after. He was Master of a city, and with Angel out for the count he was Master of his vampiric line as well. But Angel would return: there was no other option allowed. The only sign of his internal distress was the emotion in his voice as he bellowed, "Wesley!! Dru!! Get your asses down here, now!!" 

******************************* 

            Twenty minutes later things were much more calm. Angelus' body was wrapped in chains like Baby's and both unconscious vampires were laid on the floor of the office. The rest of Angel Investigations—as well as Spike—were sitting around them, ready to note the first twitch of life from either form. 

            Fred was sitting on Gunn's lap, and they were both drinking coffee, having been pulled out of bed. Fred had never seen Angelus freed of Angel's soul, and while dutifully horrified and ready to do whatever to get Angel's soul back, there was also a part of her with a scientific curiosity of just how "bad" Angelus really was. Gunn, who knew better, looked at his boss/friend with intensity, the beard he'd worn for some years giving his looks a seriousness that he'd lacked as a younger man. He wondered if this would be the day he'd have to stake the man who had become his big brother. 

            Faith sat on a turned-around chair, her chin resting on her crossed hands on the chair's back. She'd come to love Cordy and Angel as family over the years with AI, and seeing the big man brought so low set her whole world off kilter. Knowing that she'd purposefully tried to put him into this soulless state in the past increased her guilt and anxiety over what would happen to him. 

            Wes and Dru sat beside each other, holding hands, staring hard at Angelus, lost in their own thoughts. Dru was fascinated at the sight of him; Wes was filled with intense dread merging into anger. It was well known in their personal history that "Daddy" had taken particular delight in stealing Dru from Spike when they were together, knowing exactly how much it would hurt the man Spike had been then. If Angelus should try the same thing with Dru once more, should even think to get between Wes and his demon lover—well, the Powers That Be might have to find themselves a new champion right quick. 

            Cordelia sat on the countertop and studied the whole scene. Her entire family was here, the only family that mattered, all gathered in this moment of crisis. She was used to comforting them all, being the rock of stability that they all clung to. Now they were here for her, ready to catch her if she fell. She'd always known they would be, but the fact that her faith hadn't been misplaced, that they were actually here doing it, had her stretched between tears of joy and tears of horror over Angel's condition. And there was her husband, lying on the floor, as unmoving as any corpse. The whole scene resembled nothing so much as a wake, and that was exactly what she prayed for, that he would "wake" and be himself once more. If they were very lucky, that was exactly what would happen. 

            Spike was the only one not looking morose or frightened. He kept a mask of ferocious intent for all to see, and stared hard at Baby. So he'd finally found out. His wife, his love, had lost her soul, something she had never been without as a vampire. They were both curious about what she'd be like, had even joked about it a few times—"those last clinging human inhibitions, wiped away," he'd muttered against the fragrant skin of her neck while they were wrapped around each other in bed. "Imagine the possibilities." And now they had no more cause to imagine. It had happened, and his beautiful, loving, maternal, strong, and brilliant wife was as psychotic and bloodthirsty as any fledgling. Worse, she had the strength and speed of a Master, coupled with a fledgling's mindless fury. Oh happy day. And to top it off, if his grandsire proved as resourceful and deadly as he had in the past, Spike would have no choice but to stake him, thus breaking the heart of one of his best friends, decimating Angel Investigations as well as the Scourge, and ending the life of the only person he'd known as long as Dru, one of the few men he could say he truly loved and admired. 

            "Goddamn teenagers," Spike muttered, the first sound anyone had made in minutes. 

            "What?" Cordy asked. 

            "That's what it was," Spike said. "Your 'coven of warlocks.' Six teenage boys in a basement with a supply of black candles, a Latin-English dictionary, and a magic book so dangerous it should've nipped their fingers off just to open it. Plannin' their own little Columbine, they were, against their high school. So we three roll up, and though they have all these wards to avoid detection we're able to sniff 'em out and find 'em in this basement. We listen to their plans for a few minutes then pull one into the shadows to knock him out. We do this to one other before they notice something's off. We come out of the shadows, hoping just the sight of us will make 'em piss their pants and give up the incantations. But these four stupid blokes start throwing spells at us, just the few things they'd prepared at that point. And one was a broad-effect soul-removal spell. I didn't even know it happened, at first—saw this wave of energy come at me, go through me, and not affect me at all. So I stepped up and tried to take the book from this one little porker. 

            "And that's when I heard 'em behind me. I turned and saw that Angelus had torn this one kid's head off, and he was beating this other one to death with it, laughing the whole time, telling him 'two heads is better than one, laddie.' Baby was— She had—" He had to stop, his adam's apple shooting up and down his throat, visibly restraining the flood of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. "She'd torn this kid's chest open and gone right for the heart. It seemed really important to her, 'cause though there was blood left in him, once she had the heart in her hands she threw it down on the body. Then she went for the unconscious two. I could see her tear into them, the pain of her attacks wakin' 'em up, so that the last thing they saw was their own chests bein' ripped open. 

            "And I still didn't get it, stupid bloody wanker that I am. It was clear that Angelus was back, but I didn't see why Baby should go nuts. The last living boy was still in my hands, so I dragged him away and asked him what the bloody hell was going on down there. He explained it, after I persuaded him a little. A soul-removal spell. It woulda turned human kids catatonic, which is what they were aiming for. So I knocked out the kid, pocketed the book, and made my way to the one exit. 'Cause I knew Angelus well enough. And sure enough, soon as I was there to block the exit he was there lookin' for a way out. 

            "At first I thought he'd grown half a brain since the last time I saw him. He gave me a bit more respect, knew I wasn't some geek in a wheelchair he could push around. He knew what Angel knew, after all. He promised he'd be good if I didn't try to stake him. Even offered to help Baby. And as soon as he went over and touched her shoulder, she calmed down. He wrapped her up and brought her outside with me and the kid, though she was sniffing after the boy's blood." 

            "Never should have let him—" Faith muttered. 

            "Oy!" Spike was on his feet instantly, a deep growl filling the tiny office space. "When you go through it, Slayer Jr., you can tell me how to act! I did the best I could with what I had!" His fists were balled and he looked ready to release all of his tension onto her. Faith was staring at him, never having seen the confident, sexy Master lose his cool. 

            "Spike." Cordelia's voice commanded everyone's attention. "We can snipe at each other later. We have bigger problems. You need to explain what happened. And we all have to keep our traps shut until you're done." Both Spike and Faith felt the sting. Faith sent Cordy a look of deep shame, but Cordelia didn't seem to be in a mood to accept apologies. Spike merely took his seat once more and concentrated on where he had left off. 

            "When we got outside it was a whole different story," he said. "The teen coven had broken into the basement they used, and we came out to see two patrol cars with lights flashing and cops holding their guns on us. The live blood set Baby off immediately. She raced for them—took a couple of bullets but got the leading two. Angelus went for the other two but I knocked him out before he could kill 'em. Wasn't so lucky with Baby. Had to use my connection as her sire to calm her down. Even then I couldn't stop her from clawing at her arms and face to get blood. So I—" Spike took a breath. "I wrapped her up in chain from the cops' trunk. Put Angelus in the cuffs. Found some grenades and arranged a leash for him. Left the kid in a patrol car all cuffed up and crying. Then came back here." 

            "Fine," Cordelia said. "We'll need two Orbs of Thessala. Fred, can you check the supplies?" The skinny brunette jumped up to do that. "Wes, I assume you can do the spell to get Angel's soul back?" 

            "Of course," Wes answered, noting that she'd forgotten to mention Baby. "It would be best if we had the book that removed it in the first place." 

            "Right here," said Spike, pulling the book from his duster's pocket and tossing it to Wes. It was small, merely the size of a hymnal, but the cover was black and the pages green. 

            Wes stared at the book in his hands, very tempted to drop it and run. "Good lord," he said, sounding like the man he'd been almost twenty years before. The tone of his voice alerted Cordy that something was very wrong indeed. 

            "What?" she barked. 

            He looked up with wide eyes. "This is, um . . . well, I won't say its name. I don't know what it's doing on this plane. It's an enemy of the Bardo. It exists to destroy souls, fracture destiny, and basically speed up the process of entropy all around it." He stood up and set it on the counter beside Cordy. "I'm not comfortable touching it. Just by being in its presence we've guaranteed ourselves bad karma and further pain from this experience. I say that we get rid of this book before we do anything else." 

            Both Spike and Cordy stood at once. "No," they said together. Cordy put her hand on Wes' shoulder and said, "The first thing we need is to get Angel back. If we do it before he wakes up he'll have a lot less to regret." 

            "The same goes for Baby," Spike said. "Which is why we're doing her first." 

            Cordy stared at the vampire. "We're doing Angel first," she said. 

            "We already know it'll work with him," Spike growled. "He's almost got a flippin' on-off switch installed. This is the first time Baby's lived without a soul. We don't know what effect it'll have on her. Or if it'll be permanent." 

            "All the more reason," Cordy said, "to get the real leader of the Scourge back with us. He's been through this, so he'll know what to tell Baby when she comes to." 

            Spike put his hands on Cordy's shoulders, staring into her eyes, but there was no more anger in him. His fear and love for his wife flowed from him. "You saw her, Queenie," he said, using a private name between them. "What if she's still like that when we re-soul her? What if her soul isn't able to keep that demon down? We need to find out as soon as possible." 

            Cordy leaned in to hug him and spoke into his ear. "Do you think I'd hurt her?" she whispered, her own voice on the edge of tears. "I may not have a sire, but she's my sister as surely as she's Dru's. And we can't let our emotions put her in danger. You know that Angel would have the best idea what to do once he's back with us. He's the one and only expert on souled vampires, Spikey." 

            Spike pulled away, keeping her at arms' length, still staring at her. His mouth opened and closed, nothing coming out. He wanted to tell her to go ahead, wanted to put all his trust in her. But if Baby wasn't made any better by regaining her soul, and he knew that he could have prevented that by having her go first—well, he wouldn't be able to live with the pain. His whole life hinged on this decision, and if it was just about him he wouldn't have hesitated. But it was Baby's life on the line also, and she was far more important to him than his own existence. 

            "We can do it simultaneously," Wes finally said. Both Spike and Cordelia looked at him in desperate hope. He nodded wearily. "Yes, yes, it can be done. It will just take a lot more work from the spellcaster." He sighed heavily, already feeling the burden of what was to come. "Get the orbs. I'll prepare the spell. We'll do it in fifteen minutes. Move them into the lobby, please." The mage stepped over to Dru and pulled her up into his embrace. "Cordelia, could I speak with you?" 

            Cordelia followed the mage and the prophetess into the lobby, stopping by the weapons case. He was holding Dru tighter, putting his head on her shoulder. 

            "My poor Wesley," she cooed at him, stroking his hair. "So needed. So loved." 

            He looked at her and gave her a small kiss. "Thank you, my beauty." Wes finally broke from his tight hold on Dru, but kept an arm around her waist as he turned to Cordy. "I don't like doing this," he told her. "It increases the risks, for them and for myself. But it's the best way out of this impasse." 

            "There's no impasse. Angel's would be going first," Cordy said. 

            Wes closed his eyes for a moment, as if seeking strength. "Do you even know what Spike was talking about in there?" He looked at Cordy and saw only confusion. "I've spent more time with him in Louisiana than you. I know how he runs things. Do you know that Spike makes more childer than actually live with him?" Cordy shook her head. "What that means," he continued, "is that in New Orleans, wild fledgling behavior is not allowed. When he makes childer he gives them a chance to live by his rules, to only hunt those who need killing. Those childer who can't learn are . . . eliminated. By Spike himself; he won't let anyone else take on that burden." 

Cordy was now looking at him with wide eyes. "But if Baby is still bloodthirsty—" she began. 

            "Spike will have to kill her," Wes finished. "It's the rule of his city, under which he lives just like any vampire there." 

            "Well— Well, I'm under the same pressure," Cordy blustered. "If we can't restore his soul and Angelus is a permanent condition, he'll have to be staked." 

            "And do you think any of us would let you do that?" Wes said. "Do you think we'd let you hurt yourself that way? No: I'd do it, or Spike would." 

            "You think you could stop me?" 

            "I know we could." His statement wasn't a threat, but the darkness that lived behind Wesley's eyes backed up his voice. 

            "And no one else could stake Baby except him?" 

            Wes smirked. "None of us would stand in his way," he said. "He's done worse in his life, he knows that. And he wouldn't have a soul to stain with the killing of his wife. In the end, I think it's just that he craves pain more than you, and has learned to live with it." 

            "Are you sure he'd still be living after he staked Baby?" 

            Wes shook his head. "No, I'm not," he responded. "Which is why I wanted you to be sure of the stakes involved. He's not opposing you because he doesn't love Angel—he would just prefer not to kill his wife today. That's why I'm doing this simultaneously—to make sure we don't have THREE dead vampires on our hands." 

            Cordelia walked back into the office more shaken than when she'd left. 

            "All right," Spike said, clapping his hands together. "Gunn, you take his feet and I'll take the head. Faith, Cordy, can you take Baby?" 

            The two women nodded; it was the same pairing that had brought the two unconscious vampires into the office, after all. 

            In five minutes Baby and Angelus were reclining on the circular couch that the Hyperion maintained in the lobby. As the four lifters stepped away, they noticed that Angelus moved his head. 

            "Get some duct tape," Spike said to Gunn brusquely. 

            "That won't hold him," Gunn replied. 

            "It'll hold his mouth," Spike answered. "And he could always do more damage with his mouth than with his fists. Just ask Buffy." 

            Faith ran for the tape, being much faster. 

            Angelus began to chuckle, his eyes still closed. Everyone took a step back. Spike instinctively put his hand on his back pocket, which held the locator for Angelus' tracking device. "I smell fear," the black-clad vampire said. "It's delicious." 

            He whipped his head around and his eyes snapped open, staring directly at Spike. "I expected many things from you, boy," he said harshly, "but as pussy-whipped as Dru had you I never thought you'd be half the ponce I've watched you become. Christ, man, cut the apron strings! That bitca of yours has your dick in her purse—do you get visiting rights, boyo?" 

            "Faith!" Spike called, hands curled into fists, a low growl issuing from his chest. The ex-Slayer ran up with a gray roll of tape, skidding to a halt by Spike. 

            "Ooh, the runaway!" Angelus crowed on seeing Faith enter. "Pick up an orphan on the side of the road and she thinks she has a permanent invitation! Still, I suppose she has her uses. God knows I need a bit o' spice in bed after Miss White Meat over there." 

            Spike stepped forward. 

            "Speakin' o' chicken," Angelus began, casting his gaze to Charles Gunn. But Spike stood directly in front of him, blocking his view of anyone else. The blond vampire reached out to his grandsire's face almost like a caress, his thumb running down the right cheek. Then his other fingers set along his jaw and the thumb poked into the meat of the cheek. 

            "Your choice, Angelus," Spike said. "You shut up while I tape your mouth closed. Or I dislocate your jaw. Both sides." His eyes told the older vampire that he was not kidding in the slightest. Angelus looked pouty, but he stopped speaking. Spike stretched out a good length of duct tape and covered Angelus' mouth, then wrapped it around his head so it would form a firm seal. 

            When he stepped back to make sure the tape would hold, Angelus immediately began growling. But this was directed, not one of the general warning growls the humans and half-demon in the room were used to. It was a call from a sire to its childe and it woke up Baby with a shock. She was still in game-face and looked at her surroundings with wide yellow eyes. Then she began to snarl, snapping her teeth at the air, stretching her neck in the vain hope that she'd reach the humans in front of her. It was the most animalistic thing Faith, Cordy, or Gunn had ever seen from a vampire. Foam was dripping from her jaws as she struggled in her chains and attempted to lunge forward. 

            Spike sighed heavily, losing the hope that only he, Angel, and Cordy would be witness to his wife like this. He looked down at her with immense pity and sorrow, knowing exactly how horrified his lovely bride would be to see herself turned into this beast. He gave forth his own sire's growl, causing her to calm immediately. She looked up at him like a faithful dog, even whimpering and motioning that he should untie the chains that held her. He reached out and caressed her face, unable to stop the tears that had been threatening to flow for hours now. He brought back a fist and delivered a stunning blow to Baby's temple. She growled in momentary shock and then was unconscious again. 

            "I won't have you going through that, luv," Spike told her. Then he turned to Angelus, whose eyes were shining with delight. "And as for you: let's see how much growling you do without any ruddy air." He pulled off a small square of tape and put it over Angelus' nose. The larger vampire attempted to growl anyway, but in just a few seconds ran out of air and sat silently once more. 

            Spike dropped the tape on the couch and turned to Faith, putting a hand on each shoulder. He looked into her eyes and said, "You can't take what he said seriously. In fact, it would be best not to remember it at all. He didn't mean a word, luv; he was just trying to get a rise out of you. He's—" 

            "He's nothing." Cordelia's acid tone rang out across the lobby, turning all eyes to her. And she was staring at Angelus. "He's not even a dream—he's less than that. He's a tumor in my husband's brain. He just happens to have a loudspeaker. He's a shriveled, insignificant part of a demon that can't even create a body of its own. And nothing he says or does will ever be important or remembered." She then looked from Gunn to Faith to Spike. "When we think of Angelus after this day he'll inspire nothing but . . . laughter." 

            Angelus' eyes burned with fury. He struggled with the chains that bound him, no longer able to even wriggle his body sideways. His head moved frantically, wanting to hit something or someone at the very least, but it was impossible. 

            "I think we're ready for the spell," Wesley announced from the staircase, flanked by Drusilla and Fred. 

**LOS ANGELES, May 2017—2:00 AM**

            Angelus was wrapped in chains, struggling on the couch in the Hyperion's lobby. The tape on his mouth was the only thing keeping him from roaring. The mage had come downstairs and he knew that his time was limited. He wanted to bite, wanted to kill, wanted to fuck, wanted to bring about some chaos and bloody horror that would cause his souled half to squeal from the guilt. If nothing else he would cause himself an injury that would have Angel incapacitated for weeks. He should have taken Spike up on his offer to dislocate the jaws. 

            Without warning a pair of chilled tiny white hands were caressing his face. He looked up into the eyes of his childe, his oldest unliving relative. Drusilla. She held his taped face and looked into his cruel dirt-brown eyes. She had a smile of welcoming, of pleased recognition, for it had been nearly twenty years since she had seen the man who had sired her instead of a stranger wearing his body. "Daddy," she crooned to him, her hand moving across his broad, broad forehead. 

            Dru! He could no longer make a sound, could barely move anything beyond his eyes, but Dru was his special girl, the one who could reach beyond words and hear his thoughts. He poured all of his mental force into his sire/childe connection and screamed to her: DRU! GET ME OUT OF HERE! 

            The vampiress canted her head to the side, looking at him curiously. "Trying to drill into my head, Daddy?" she asked. Dru giggled to herself. "Silly. I have a surprise for you." 

            Angelus' eyes widened in surprise. Why wasn't she obeying? What was wrong? 

            "What's wrong," Dru said, catching the end of his thoughts, "is everything you did to me, Daddy. When I was human and beyond, when I was weak. I wasn't able to do anything about it for a long time, my sweet Angelus. But I'm better now. Stronger." She slipped into game-face, and her sharp-toothed grin was horrible to behold. "Able to give you what you deserve." 

            Angelus' head dropped back and he began to wriggle once more, now trying to tear himself from his childe's grasp. Why did all of his childer eventually try to kill him? It must be something wrong with them, he decided. 

            Drusilla wouldn't let go, though. She had his head firmly in her grasp, and the older vampire watched in dread as her eyes started to glow with power. The strength of her thoughts reached out and squeezed his mind, wracking his entire body in pain, causing him to arch off the couch and fall to the floor. But she never let go of his head and didn't stop the assault. 

            "Dru!" Spike shouted from behind her, trying to remove her by grabbing her shoulders. She shrugged him off easily, throwing him back at least six feet. He was on her again right away, so she took the time to remove a hand from Angelus' head and turned her glowing, pulsing eyes upon her childe. "Leave," she said, making a tiny motion with her hand, sending him flying into the far wall of the lobby and holding him off the floor. She turned back to torturing her sire and Spike stayed where he was. 

            "My lovely, my pet," Wes crooned behind her. "Time to rest now, dear heart." 

            Drusilla paused in sending mental lightning flaring through Angelus' body. "Rest?" she asked. 

            "Yes, my love," Wes answered, his voice still calm and deep. "Aren't you tired, precious?" 

            The glow that suffused her eyes lessened a great deal. "I am, my Wesley," she said in a little-girl voice. "Justice to Daddy has made me so weary." 

            "Then come and rest with me, dearest," Wes said. "Set down your burden and sleep, baby." 

            The fierce glow in her eyes disappeared. She set down the head of Angelus, who was unconscious again and had small tendrils of smoke running from his ears. She turned to Wes' kneeling, pleading form and found that she didn't even have the strength to rise. With a small sound of surprise, she dropped into unconsciousness herself and fell into his arms. 

            Wes stood, bringing Dru's dead weight with him. It was something he was comfortable and experienced with. He turned to Faith and said, "Can you take her up to our room? She'll sleep for some time, I'm sure." The Slayer blinked at him. It was the first time in years Wesley had openly asked her for a favor: he was famous for holding a grudge, and they weren't always friendly. But she nodded and took Dru's body in her arms, carrying the weight easily up the stairs. Cordelia kneeled at Angelus' body, cradling his head in her lap. 

            Wesley looked at the other shocked people in the room and shrugged. "What can I say? She had years of brutality to avenge." He looked at Spike, who was rubbing the back of his head as he joined them. "You got your own licks in for Angelus' treatment. She's only now strong enough to do the same." 

            "I'll say," Spike said. "I had no idea she had such power." 

            "And you might as well forget it," Wes said harshly. "Doing that takes far too much out of her. I won't have her harmed unless it's absolutely necessary." 

            "Can we PLEASE start the spell now?" Cordelia nearly shouted. 

            Everyone turned to look at her. Wes shrugged. "Sure. Just let me set up." The mage opened the bag he had brought from upstairs and removed a small prayer carpet. He unrolled it onto the floor and knelt down, digging around in the bag again until he pulled out a blue scarf with runes drawn into its silken folds. He wrapped the scarf around his throat and then accepted the two Orbs of Thessala from Fred. He held them up in offering, the orbs filling his palms, and closed his eyes. 

            "Don't you need the spell, mate?" Spike asked. 

            "I memorized it upstairs," Wes said. "That's why we had to wait fifteen minutes." The members of Angel Investigations and Spike lifted their eyebrows as one, once again impressed with Wes' abilities. The strength of his mind was a suitable counterpart to his mate, whose mind filled every other mental strength. Not for the first time everyone considered that while the other two marriages of the Scourge were happy and fulfilling, none of them were so destined to be joined as Wes and Dru. When Faith came down to join them everyone settled quietly, watching Wes. 

            Wes began to mutter to himself, keeping his eyes firmly closed; then his voice raised and started a clear cadence in Latin. Almost immediately the orbs sparked into brightness, like a match lit in the center of each one. They steadily grew brighter as Wes chanted, his voice strengthening and increasing in volume in accord with their luminosity. In minutes he was shouting, and the orbs were too bright for the living to withstand. Spike continued to stare, his eyes watering but not burning. He was thus the only one to see both orbs simultaneously disintegrate from the top into the mage's hands. And he saw a light of similar power flash from behind the eyelids of both Angelus and Baby. The event shocked both vampires into waking. 

            With his mouth taped, no one would ever know what Angel's first word was when his soul was returned. But Baby looked up in surprise, her human features once more gracing her face, and blurted, "Cordy!" 

            Spike didn't let the word register in his head. The fact that she had spoken was enough for him. He rushed forward and took his wife's face in his hands. "Baby, Baby, Baby," he muttered, looking through tears at her sweet hazel eyes flecked with gold. "Is it you, pet?" 

            "Of course it's me, honey," she answered, her features twisting in a customary annoyance that he found adorable. "But what the hell happened? Why can't I move?" He leaned back so that she could look down and see the lengths of chain that wrapped around her from feet to shoulders. She met Spike's face again with a raised eyebrow. "Uh, sweetie? It's possible to take the kinky stuff a bit too far." 

            It was such a snarky Baby thing to say that Spike laughed and hugged her to him, pressing her undead body unmercifully. 

            "Spiiike," she moaned. "I never thought I'd say this, but less hugging and more unwrapping." 

            He chuckled and started to remove the chain from around her ankles. "I'm sure I've heard you say that before," he said, wanting to keep her talking, wanting to keep her glorious self to the fore while he could. "That Christmas in '07? When you wrapped yourself in paper and a bow?" He quickened his pace with the unwrapping, knowing what was to come. 

            "Ooh, yeah—I had ALMOST forgotten. I haven't tried that since I stopped breathing, y'know. It'd be nice to have you work your way in once more." 

            "And what was that joke we had at the time?" he continued, now freeing her arms. "About the cream filling?" 

            Her only response was a deep, rolling chuckle that suggested what they'd get to as soon as her hands could wrap around him. Then, instantly, it broke off, and she gasped. "Oh, Spike!" she exclaimed, her voice full of despair. "Oh noooo! Those boys!" 

            Spike grabbed the last three lines of chain at once and snapped them, freeing her completely. He let Baby fall into his arms, because she was now sobbing. "Oh Spike! I was— I was a monster!" 

Baby's tears always affected Spike more than angry words and blows ever did. He sat himself on the couch and pulled her onto his lap, rubbing his hands across her back in large circles, just letting her vent her pain onto him. "It wasn't you, luv," he said. "It was that bloody demon inside you, that's all. Just an extra passenger that you don't have to listen to. You're strong, Baby, the toughest bitch this side of Hell. You'll make sure it'll never be free again." 

            "Their hearts," she moaned. "I don't even know WHY I wanted them." She continued to pour tears onto him, a river of pain that seemed to have no end. 

            "You'll heal, sweetness," Spike said. "I swear it. We'll spend the rest of our long lives keeping that monster in the closet." 

            Baby pulled away, staring at him from waterlogged eyes that still streamed tears down her face. "You're right," she said, her voice already stronger. "It's my duty. I— I have to keep it from destroying anyone else." 

            "That's it, pet." He gave her a small smile, trying to instill some hope to overwhelm her pain. 

            Baby wiped her tears away with the back of her hand, looking very young and precious to Spike. "I have to be strong," she said. "I can't show a moment's weakness." 

            Spike put his forehead against hers, their eyes burning into each other's. "You can with me, pet. I know exactly how strong you are, and I'll never call you weak. I'll never doubt that you're the winner over your demon." 

            "I love you," she whispered to him. 

            "I love you, too," he said, his mischievous nature making him sneak his hands into her blouse as he said this, emphasizing his words with actions, as was their way. 

            Baby pulled back quickly and slapped at his hands, smiling shyly. "We can wait until we get upstairs," she said. 

            Spike stared at her. Now THAT was something he never expected to hear her say. 

            Meanwhile, Cordelia had run over to Angel as soon as the blinding light disappeared. She tore at the tape over his mouth, wanting to hear his lovely voice free of the heavy lilt that marked Angelus' presence. He drew in a few large breaths before looking up at her with a smirk. "Hey there, beautiful," he said. 

            "Angel?" Cordy asked, but she had only to look into his eyes to know the truth. The flinty spark of malice was gone; his chocolate brown eyes were filled with compassion and pain and a need to bring comfort. And there was an extra measure of joy in his expression, something she hadn't expected. 

            "God, I'm happy to see you," he said. "I love you so much, honey. I don't know what I'd do without you. You're my reason for going on." 

            Cordy looked at him with suspicious eyes. "Angel?" she asked again. 

            Angel rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "Sorry," he told her. "I was just trying to show you some affection. You know, that thing you complain I don't show you nearly enough of?" 

            His wife continued to look at him with distrust. "Uh-huh." 

            "Listen, can we not—" Then he winced. "Oh God. Two boys, two kids in a basement. Oh God." 

            Ah, Angel in pain. This she understood. Cordy took his head into her lap and caressed his cheek, careful not to disturb his hair. "It wasn't your fault, baby," she cooed to him. "Some soul-stealing spell caught you by surprise. There wasn't a thing you could have done. Don't blame yourself, please." 

            He looked up at her, like a lost boy seeking the security of his mother's embrace. "Really?" he asked. 

            "Yeah," she said, knowing it was a lost cause trying to make Angel NOT feel guilty about something. 

            He smiled up at her, never having been on the verge of tears. "Okay." He took a breath and bellowed, "Gunn! Come help me out of these chains!" The bald man rushed over to do just that, Fred helping. "Start at the top," Angel instructed. "As soon as my hands are free I'll help you." Within two minutes he was free and standing, hugging Cordy to him desperately. 

            "I was lost," Angel whispered into her ear. "Wherever it was, it was without you. And I cannot stand ever being there again." 

            Cordelia squeezed him back as best she could. She was still suspicious, partly because it was just a natural Cordy way to be, always looking for clues in her husband's behavior and catching signs of trouble ahead before anyone else. But also because this behavior from Angel was unprecedented. He could do wonders with words, but usually only in rare instances; vocalizing was just not their way. They made their feelings clear through deep longing looks, affectionate expressions, and constantly being nearby so one of them could touch one another. And Angel was doing the touching thing, that was all very nice; but he almost never said this much. Maybe this trip without his soul, short as it was, was particularly harrowing. Cordy told herself to be more understanding and not to knock a good thing. 

            Only when they separated, and Angel's massive chest wasn't blocking her view of basically everything, did she see that Spike and Baby were also wrapped around each other on the couch, the vampiress still wiping tears from her eyes. She stepped away from Angel to comfort her dear fellow consort. "Baby, are you okay?" 

            "Oh, Cordy!" Baby sobbed, rising from her husband's lap to take Cordelia in a strong embrace. "I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry. I was a monster. You must be so scared of me now." 

            "Don't be an ass," Cordy assured her, holding her friend tighter to her. "You're like my sister, you know that. You'd never frighten me." She shone her wide, beautiful smile onto Baby's fearing eyes. "You're just like Angel now: you have to make sure you have your soul all buttoned up and safe before you go anywhere." 

            "Yes." Baby nodded solemnly, looking at Cordelia with more seriousness. "It's my duty now. I have to guard the world from that side of me." 

            Angel stepped up behind Cordy, putting his hands on her shoulders. He looked seriously at Baby. "Are you really okay, Childe?" 

            Baby stared back with eyes threatening to tear up again. "Sire, I— I—" 

            "It's alright," Angel told her. "You don't have to describe it all now, or tell me anything. Get it straight in your own head before we have that discussion." Baby nodded at him as Spike rose, collecting his wife into his arms. "And Spike . . ." The platinum blond vampire looked at his grandsire with one eyebrow raised. "Thank you. For everything you did." Spike just gave him a quick nod of reassurance, letting him know that there were no debts between them, that they helped each other through mutual love and trust. 

            Then the four simply stood, looking at each other in a quiet haze of acceptance and love. They were family, these four, and the demons in all of them fairly purred in contentment at that knowledge. These four strong personalities drifted in that ease of feeling, not really noting the passage of time. 

            From her seat on the couch, where she'd been collecting the lengths of chain, Faith watched them and wondered if she'd ever know such peace, even if she also lived to be two hundred. 

            From ten feet away, Gunn and Fred watched quietly, arms around each other to provide what comfort they could find. Both of them secretly hated when the vampires got like this. They didn't begrudge the demonic folk their bit of happiness, knowing how rare that was in those strangely long lives of theirs. But moments like this emphasized the fact that they were vampires and Gunn and his wife were human; not that they were limited—they were simply OTHER. There was a bond between these four that the humans who shared their lives could not touch. Gunn might tell himself that Angel was his brother, and feel it even more strongly, but he knew in his heart that Angel didn't think of him that way and certainly didn't see Fred as a sister-in-law. To Angel, the Scourge was family, and while others were close friends for whom they'd die and kill, they would still never be a part of the silent union that Angel, Cordy, Spike, and Baby were now sharing. When he saw them like this, sometimes Gunn wanted to scream at how they were flaunting something that he would never have, would never be invited to join. But he didn't dare. 

            Wesley, who was a member of the Scourge but not yet a demon, was under no such restraint. "Enough!" he cried. "It's either very late or very early. And some of us were drawn away from pleasant lovemaking to attend to this crisis. Might I suggest that we all get back to it?" He had already collected his magic implements into his bag, so he stomped up the staircase, muttering to himself. 

            The two couples were shaken from their haze. Spike was the first to grin and say, "I love how clearly that man thinks." Then he took to nibbling at his wife's neck where it met her shoulders, while she giggled and rolled her eyes. Cordy watched them as they adjourned upstairs themselves, following Gunn and Fred up. Baby had her arms around Spike, but usually at this point she would be kissing him fiercely. Or sticking her hands in his pants, at the very least, so impatient to get her hands on him and not caring who watched. 

            Speaking of which: Angel was currently excavating in her jeans, his big cool hands sliding over her ass and stopping all thinking processes on her part. Maybe she was just being paranoid. After all, Angel was offering her something much better to do than worry about Baby and Spike. She turned to kiss him, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

            Faith looked at the chain in her hands. Fuck this, she thought. She was the only one in this goddamn hotel going to bed alone tonight; she could put off the cleaning until the morning, when the vampires would still be in bed and she'd have her run of the place. There was a hot shower waiting for her in her room and it was past time that she got to it. 

            As she rose to hop up the stairs three-at-a-time, like usual, Faith was stopped by Angel calling for her. She was the only one who had yet to speak to him now that his soul was returned. She'd hoped that he hadn't seen that. So she walked slowly back to where he and Cordy were entwined, looking at the floor. "Yes, Angel?" she asked. 

            He stepped away from Cordy and loomed over Faith, taking her chin in his hand and bringing her eyes up to meet his own. "Faith, honey, I remember what Angelus said. You have to know that he was just spilling out lies to hurt you and everyone else." 

            "Yeah, I know," she said, shaking her head free of him. "I never met Angelus before, though. I thought I had—that time that I thought I'd gotten your soul removed, and you were so different, so wild. But it was just you and Buffy playing me. So although I thought I was up for the experience—" 

            "Yeah," Angel said. "There's never any way to predict how he'll act or what he'll say. You can just be sure that he'll do whatever it takes to hurt as many people as possible for as long as possible." 

            "And the things he said. Those weren't things that you—?" 

            "NO!" Angel's voice rang through the lobby. "They weren't thoughts that I have but never say. I don't care what anyone's told you: Angelus is not Angel with the brakes cut. We're two completely different people. He just happens to have full access to my memory. And unfortunately I have full access to his. So he'll steal things from my life to use against those I love, but that isn't me, that isn't what I think. None of it had a bit of truth to it." 

            "No one's ever called me an orphan before," she said quietly. 

            Angel pulled her close. "Oh, baby. It was just a curse aimed at you. It was the most hurtful thing he could think to say." 

            "But it's true," she countered. "I haven't thought of it in a long time, but it's true. I'm all alone." 

            "You're never alone as long as I'm here," he answered. "And you couldn't drive Cordy away if you wanted to. Even those times that you REALLY want to." 

            Faith gave him a chuckle and a smile for that. "Yeah, she can be a real pain at times, can't she? All that loving and caring and affection."   
            "Oh, I know," he said, meeting her grin with his own, careful not to meet his wife's eyes. "So full of compassion and nurturing. Ready to forgive all sins and take you into her arms." He sighed wistfully and hugged Faith a bit harder. "What did WE ever do to deserve her?" 

            "I don't know," Faith replied. "But I thank God that she's here." 

            "Okay, okay," Cordelia said, having heard everything. "Enough buttering me up. Aren't we all tired? Don't we want to get to bed?" 

            Keeping an arm around Faith, Angel turned to Cordy. "Hmm. Butter. We haven't tried that in a while. Might be worth revisiting." 

            Cordy stared at him with a slight blush. He loved her just a bit more for that, seeing that after all this time she could still blush. "Angel," she said, "What are you—?" 

            "Faith," he said, turning to the woman at his side. "It's been a while, but . . . would you like to join us?" He motioned toward Cordy, then looked at his wife. "If you're okay with it, of course." 

            The two women looked at each other, wide-eyed. Faith joined in with the Scourge orgies every once in a while, but it had been years since it had been just the three of them together in a bed. Faith looked at the floor, shyly. "I'd— I'd like that," she said softly. 

            Cordy came forward and hugged Faith tightly. "Then we want you there," she said, and gave the gorgeous brunette a small kiss, a taste of things to come. 

            Angel hugged them both. "We want to show you how loved and treasured you are, Faith." He stood back with a large grin. "So. On your mark." He turned to the stairs and crouched like a runner. He waited until the other two, wearing similar grins, crouched next him in similar positions. "Get set." The girls giggled as he drew out the pause, counting to twenty in his head. "Go!" he shouted, shooting up the stairs, but the Slayer easily kept up with him. Behind them, Cordy wailed that they were ditching her, so Angel gently slowed his pace and dropped back, allowing Faith to rocket into the lead and reach Angel's room first. 

            Though part-demon, Cordy was as slow as any human. Still, she had never stopped running, and Angel didn't have to go too slowly to allow her to catch up. As soon as she did catch him, though, he spun around and lifted her off the floor in a bear hug. When he set her down he had her shirt and she wore only jeans, a bra, and an angry scowl. "No fair, mister," she warned,  but he was already laughing and skipping down the hallway. She put on some speed and caught up with him, immediately tearing at his long coat and his shirt. It was so wonderful to own one's own hotel, where clothes left in the hallway were explanation enough of what went on and fellow lodgers knew to avoid that wing. By the time they reached the room, laughing so hard they were gasping, they were both topless and had already kicked their shoes off. 

            When they came to the open door, though, they found Faith sitting on the bed, expectant, smiling at them warmly, but without having removed a stitch of clothing. "Oh, baby," Cordy said in her most maternal voice, and crossed the room to embrace the Slayer and start to work at the buckle on her pants. Angel silently stepped to the bed, kneeled, and started to remove Faith's shoes. The brunette decided to lean back and let them work on her. 

            Faith was no longer the girl she'd been. She was 36 now, and although she still looked 25 and had strength and endurance that a 19-year-old would envy, she felt the age in her bones. She started to notice more and more how her closest friends at AI, Cordy and Angel, let the years fly by without a thought because they were unaffected by them. She noticed the few gray strands in her own brilliant mane of brunette locks. And she saw how Gunn was getting gray patches in his beard, and how Fred's hands weren't the smooth, delicate things they'd been when they first met. And then Baby, who she'd come to know as the oldest woman within her social circle, a hot mama in her fifties, had become a vampire and gained back the beauty and delicate features that Faith hadn't seen since she was a teenager and had first come to Sunnydale. She knew that Wes, who was fast-approaching his late forties, was planning on cheating death as well. And it made her consider things that she had never thought of before, options that would have been unthinkable to the teenage Faith even with all her rebelliousness, but which started to look attractive to the second Slayer ever to reach her thirties. But this wasn't what she considered now, with Angel and Cordy so close and loving. At the moment she was just reluctant to strip in front of them, not wanting them to see how some things sagged where they never had before and some parts of her skin were worn from use. 

            The couple sensed her hesitation as soon as they came to the room, and may even have understood the cause. But they weren't having it. They intended this bed on this night to be a hang-up-free zone. So they were also determined that she get naked first and get the lion's share of the attention. Which was not an unattractive proposition no matter the circumstances. 

            Two hours, a smashed headboard, and a pair of broken handcuffs later, the three lovers lay in the stupor of their afterglow, settling into the bed comfortably, Faith in the middle of the loving couple. Angel and Faith fell asleep almost instantly, having just exerted themselves the most, but Cordelia stayed awake. She replayed the events of the last few hours in her head, giving some details a closer study, and replaying others again and again to hear how they sounded to her. The sex between Faith and Angel—with the handcuffs and all—was something new for him, climactic, and certainly not disturbing to her. But it was hauntingly familiar. It had been very much like the last time she and Baby had teased Wes about the American phrases slipping into his vocabulary, and he had "punished" them for their behavior. Only then it had been Baby who had been begging to be hurt. Baby, who liked torture and blood with her sex whenever she could get it; Baby, who was unrestrained and outspoken about her needs; Baby, who just a few hours before had been as soulless as Angelus. 

            Something clicked into place in Cordy's head. She rose from bed and put on her sky-blue robe and rushed down the hall to Wesley's room. She knocked loudly on the door, crying, "Wes! Something's wrong!" 

********************* 

            The suite reserved for Spike and Baby was in the South Wing, as they preferred, since it was so close to the pool. It also kept the shouting and furniture-breaking of their sexual gymnastics from keeping other residents awake. 

            Spike wouldn't have cared if half the hotel was complaining on this night. He just wished that they had something to complain about. 

            When they'd gotten back to the room after the big spell in the lobby, Baby had wanted nothing so much as to get into the shower and remove the stink of that basement and those dead kids. Spike understood, and all-too-happily joined her in the shower for scrubbing and other playful activities. And she'd been nicely enthusiastic, if a bit less violent than she usually was. One thing he liked about his ladylove was the sharp turns she took, the quick and violent methods she used to get her way, and the dirty tricks she pulled in bed to do that often sent fireworks of pain and pleasure shooting through his nervous system for hours at a time. But the sex in the shower was tender, loving, unhurried, like the lovemaking they'd accomplished when they first got together, not the slam-bang dash of two veterans who'd mapped each others' bodies for nearly two decades. But if that was what Baby needed after her experience without a soul, that was what Spike would provide, no questions asked. 

            Except that now he had lots of questions. Especially because it was more than an hour after they'd been done in the shower and she was still sitting at the vanity working on her hair. Spike was lying in bed, naked, so ready he could drive nails through boards from across the room—and yet no response from Baby. He'd tried all the subtle signs and nothing worked. He'd tried a few of the more overt signs to tell her to come to bed. And she'd ignored them. He was almost at the point of using semaphore flags or just openly saying, "Luv: come to bed," when he hit upon the idea that he was still her sire. He tried one of the most basic of invitational growls. 

            Her head immediately swiveled in his direction. "Yes, honey?" she asked, her wide brush still sweeping through her hair. 

            "Um. I— I just wondered when you were coming to bed. Honey." 

            "Oh, not until I'm done," she said, her voice fairly dripping with her Southern drawl. Usually that only slipped out when she was angry, and it made her sound nice and threatening. Now, used with a cheery tone, it sounded like she was one of the faceless guests at a party with Scarlett O'Hara: it made her sound insipid. But she was still recovering from the shock of her first day sans soul. He wasn't going to pick at annoyances or find fault until she had more time. Except for this very important issue of sex. 

            "So when do you think you'll be done, luv?" 

            "Well, I don't know," she said, pouting. "Even with this sorcerous mirror you got me, I can't seem to get my hair just right. It's either too full on the sides or too short on top or I don't know what." 

            "If it can't be helped then it can't be helped. Why not come to bed and get it all mussed? You can fix it in the morning." 

            "Mussed?" she said, blinking at him uncomprehendingly. "Why would I do that?" 

            "You know, luv. After a bit of the rough and tumble, it's always—" 

            Baby's laughter interrupted him. "Oh, I'm sorry, Spike. I just—well, with all the ruckus we had tonight, I'm just not very much in the mood. You understand, right?" 

            Spike sat straight up in bed. "Not in the mood?" he asked. 

            "Yeah. Just one of those nights, y'know?" 

            Now Spike was standing, and hurriedly throwing on a black-and-red robe. "I know. Problem is, luv, you haven't had 'one of those nights' in the 19 years I've known ya. If you're not on the make then something is definitely wrong here." 

            Baby looked at him through narrow eyes as he hopped around, trying to put on a slipper. "Maybe you're just not sexy anymore—maybe that's why I feel off." 

            "Me? Not sexy?" He bellowed laughter at her. "Oh, that's too too funny, luv," he said, stepping outside the room. He made his way toward Wesley's room, finding Cordelia and the ex-Watcher already talking in the hallway. 

            "Oy!" Spike barked at them. "Something's wrong!" 

******************** **4:50 AM**

            Eventually everyone convened in the lobby, because that was where all the coffee machines were kept. Angel Investigations kept four of them: one for Spike and Baby's Community Coffee from Louisiana; one for Wesley's mandatory vanilla roast; one for the "blood roast" that the vampires had concocted and drank only on the most solemn of occasions; and one for everyone else. That Angel was drinking the Community Coffee and enjoying it was disturbing to everyone in the office. 

            In the corner, Angel sat talking to Drusilla, who was now awake once more. She was filling him in on how much punishment she'd given to her Bad Daddy and what further tortures she'd planned, but that she was still happier to see Good Daddy back where he belonged. Faith sat next to Angel, an arm wrapped around his, still high on infatuation with him. Angel was fully dressed, while everyone else was in a collection of robes and pajamas. 

            Everyone else was listening to Spike and Cordelia, and then to Wesley. The mage considered the facts and sighed heavily. "I'm afraid it's clear what's happened. The wrong souls went into the wrong bodies." 

            "What, like they've switched? But Angel is definitely Angel, he's not Baby inside an Angel suit," Cordelia said. 

            Wes gave her a bitter look. "You're not Jodie Foster and this isn't 'Freaky Friday.' I didn't say their personalities had been exchanged. It's their souls. The soul is a very indeterminate thing, people. As Spike can well tell you, it is NOT the holder of all human emotion or memory. And we know that anyway, since Angel's memory is always the same whether he's Angel or Angelus. It's his attitude toward that memory that changes. And I'd say that that's as good a definition of the soul as any: a being's attitude, the thing it had from birth that made it who it was before it could gather memories or encode a personality. The thing that makes one child from an abusive home become a world leader and another child from the same type of home a psychopath." 

            "Blows that whole 'nature vs. nurture' issue out of the water, doesn't it?" Baby said. 

            "For the Council of Watchers it was a moot point ages ago," Wes agreed. 

            "Bloody know-it-all wankers," Spike murmured. 

            "So where does that leave us?" Cordelia asked. "Can Angel even function with Baby's soul?" 

            "Well, it appears so," Wes said. "He doesn't seem to be suffering any ill effects. And Baby? How are you?" 

            The redhead gave him a sour smile. "Since I figured out that something was wrong I've been taking a mental inventory. I don't remember ever feeling this guilty, but it's there all right: this heavy, oppressive feeling in the back of my head that tells me I'm a bad bad person and shows me glossy color photos of the people I've killed and hurt." She shook her head ruefully. "I'm fairly young, y'know, and I haven't killed all that many people with my own hands. I can't imagine how Angel lives through this all the time considering what he's done." 

            "It's not easy," said Angel, stepping up to the group. "But I can tell you this: it's much easier now. I can remember that feeling you're talking about, Baby; it's clear in my head. But that's all it is—a memory. Right now I don't feel a damn bit guilty about any of the stuff I've pulled. I just want to have fun, maybe do a killing or two. Oh, and I have this unaccountable attraction to Spike, like a very powerful crush." 

            "Stands to reason," Spike said. "I'm such a pretty bloke, after all." 

            "I could say the same thing about Cordy," Baby said, reaching out and caressing her cheek. "But I've always had a thing for you, Queenie, even before I met you. Used to drool over pictures of Charisma Carpenter on the Internet." 

            "So it's not an immediate crisis," Wes said. "But it is a problem. With your souls exchanged, you truly are different people. As the days go on your personalities will adjust to balance the souls within you." 

            "You mean, I'll BECOME Angel?" Baby said in alarm. 

            "Nothing that good," Wes replied. "No, you'll be . . . someone else. Someone new, with memories that reflect Baby's life but a new viewscope through which you'll see that life. Your thoughts, your opinions and beliefs, are bound to change. The person we knew as Baby will be gone, even if you were to somehow regain your original soul later." 

            "So how long do they have?" Spike barked, leaning forward. 

            Wes rubbed his chin. "I'd say that they have to be switched back within three days," he said. "After that, the switchback process could not be accomplished without some damage. As it is, the whole procedure is dangerous and I'll have to start doing some major research immediately. I have to find some way to remove their souls, keep the disembodied souls safe, then put them into the correct bodies." He looked at Spike and Cordy disapprovingly. "I think next time the policy should remain 'one-at-a-time,' no matter whose feelings get hurt." 

            "Hey, learned my lesson, mate," Spike said. "Angel goes first next time, no questions asked. Of course, there'd better not BE a next time. Not with my wife's soul on the line." 

            Wes turned to look at Baby. She was . . . well, brooding was the only word for it. Another side effect of having Angel's soul. "Are you ready for this?" he asked her. "It will be a dangerous procedure, even under the best circumstances." 

            Baby continued to look thoughtful and introspective. It made her look old and was just wrong on a face so meant to be laughing. "While I don't much like the idea of my soul being ripped out of me and shoved into another body . . . I must admit, I don't remember how it feels to lose one's soul, even though it happened to me only a few hours ago. So I can't rightly be scared of it. And I want to be the woman that Spike loves—that's more important to me than anything else. So yes, I'll do whatever I have to do." 

            Wes turned to look at Angel. "And you? Are you ready?" He was greeted only by silence, and eventually every face turned to look at the dark-clad vampire. 

            He looked thoughtful, but not as brooding as before. In fact, his body language was much more open and carefree than anyone had ever seen with him. Angel eventually came out of himself and looked at them all, then looked at his watch. Ten 'til five. 

            "For the first time in a hundred and twenty years," Angel said, "I don't feel guilty. In fact, I feel great, and I know that I'm not gonna be going out to murder anyone. And you want me to sit around the hotel and help you research until the day I get all my guilt back?" He laughed once, briefly. "I am outta here!" he announced, and vaulted over the counter, running to the doors leading outside from the lobby. They heard a whoop of joy from him as he hit the night air and then he was gone. 

**LOS ANGELES, May 2017—4:50 AM**

            Angel hit the early morning air and whooped with joy. The sun would be up in just over an hour and he wanted to be elsewhere when it came. He shouldered aside the iron gate in the courtyard and looked around for a bus. The #17 was just pulling away from the stop across the street. He smirked and set off on a dead run after it. Been wanting to do this for years, he thought. 

            When he rushed up to its rear he grabbed a handhold, hauled himself up onto the bus' back, and then flipped himself onto the roof. Angel grinned into the rushing wind, exhilarated with everything around him. He hadn't taken such joy in his senses and strength since he was first turned by Darla. His energy, his libido, his joy in existence—all of it was heightened. Logically, he knew that it was from Baby's soul driving him from the core of his being, yet he didn't really contemplate the source of his feelings. He felt limitless, as if he could take on the entire world. Yet he didn't feel an urge to kill or bring chaos. And he knew that AI and Spike would be after him as soon as they could. Well, if he only had this morning in Los Angeles to look forward to, then he knew exactly where he wanted to go. 

********************* 

            Back in the Hyperion, with the echo of the slamming doors still ringing in the lobby, everyone but Spike immediately looked to Baby. She looked around in wonder. "What?!" she asked. 

            "That's YOUR soul that's doing that to him," Cordelia said, frowning. 

            "Well he's YOUR husband, why aren't you—" Then Baby groaned and put her head in her hands. "You're right, you're right, it's all my fault. I feel terrible." 

            Spike pulled her into his lap, rubbing her back and nuzzling her neck. "And it's Angel's soul that's doing this to you. Don't blame yourself, dear heart," he said. "You didn't ask to have your soul removed. And you didn't screw up the spell to put it back." 

            "I told you and Cordy that it was dangerous," Wes growled. 

            "So what!" Spike bellowed, the sudden volume of his voice making everyone jump. "We face danger every day—it sleeps next to us in bed, Wes! But when I'm facing the option of seeing my wife ERASED, I'd say we're in the territory of LETHAL. That's the nice little word you might have added to your warning." 

            Now Baby was caressing him, trying to calm him down. "Don't worry, honey, don't worry. It'll all work out. Squabblin' with each other ain't gonna do a bit o' good." 

            Baby's thickened drawl did nothing to improve Spike's mood—it only reminded him of the seriousness of the situation, of the woman she could become instead of the mate and consort who was the center of his existence. 

            Wes stood up and stalked to the front counter, where the spellbook Spike had retrieved still lay. "It's the book's fault," he growled, more to himself than anyone else. "Our first order of business should have been getting rid of it. Its presence here still bodes ill for our chances of getting their souls where they belong." 

            Spike took a breath. "Okay. So we have to make a decision right now. Do we need to find Angel immediately? Or do we wait for him to go to ground somewhere while we do research and then scoop him up when we have an answer?" 

            Cordelia looked at him. "Do you have the—thing?" 

            "The locator," Spike said. "Yep. Right here." He pulled the device from his left back pocket and turned on the screen. "He's currently heading . . . downtown. At a good clip, too, so he must have found some transport." 

            "Do we have any idea where he's going?" A few pairs of eyes turned to Baby again. 

            "Oh, for God's sake!" Baby said. "How the hell could I know where he is?" 

            "Too right, pet," Spike said. He stood up, bringing his wife along with him. "This decision's made, then. He has to stop at daybreak—we'll get him then. Wes, you can study up on what's required. The rest of us will just worry." He put an arm around Baby's shoulders, drawing her closer, and left the office to return to his room. 

            "Study," said Wes. "Yes. Right. I'll start with a book about the history of ensouled vampires, shall I? Just take that weighty tome off the shelf. Should be up there right next to the text on vampiric pregnancy." His tone was acid enough to cause Drusilla to rise and caress his shoulders from behind, whispering things into his ear that were already causing the tension to slacken from his body. 

            Faith bounced up from her chair. "I can't just sit here," she announced. "I'm gonna head downtown—maybe I'll see him. At least it'll put me closer to where he's gonna stop, and allow me to get to him quicker. You know my cell number," she finished, rushing upstairs to change. 

            Gunn stood as well. "Good idea," he said. "If we're already mobile when he lands wherever he's planning, we'll be that much quicker reaching him." He was already moving toward the door, dragging Fred with him. 

            "But what are we going to say when we find him?" the Texan girl asked. "How do we convince him that he has to come back? Or are we going to tie him up again?" 

            The pair stopped in the doorway, both looking at Cordelia. The emotional core of the group, she was the one they always looked to for real answers. At this moment she seemed to have nothing to say, just sitting forward in her chair, elbows on knees, her head propped in her hands, staring into space. "She'll think of something," Gunn said gruffly, trying to convince himself as much as Fred, and then they were both on their way upstairs once more. 

            This left only Wesley, Dru, and Cordelia in the small area behind the front desk. Wes still leaned against the counter, looking at the evil book in front of him. Dru wrapped her arms around his chest and hooked her chin over his shoulder, trying to see what he saw. "Ooh, such a pretty black light," she said. 

            This caught Wes' attention. Of course, he always paid more attention to Dru's slightest whisper than the comments of anyone else. "Eh? What black light, my dear?" 

            She motioned with her chin to the book lying on the counter. "That square bit of blood and flesh," she said. "It glows with a thick black light, like dark chocolate. It reaches out, greedy thing." She let go of Wesley and looked him up and down. "It's gotten into you too, my Wesley. You have a streak in your aura." 

            He spun around to look at her with wide eyes. "Oh God no," he breathed. 

            His tone broke Cordelia out of her own shell of worry. "What?" she asked. "What's wrong now?" 

            "I've found what went wrong with the spell before," he said, still looking at Dru. 

            "So—what was it?" Cordy asked. 

            "It appears," Wes said carefully, "that even my little bit of contact with this book of evil has infected me. It probably affected Spike similarly, but he's not casting spells so it went unnoticed. It's nothing serious, nothing that a spell of purity wouldn't cure immediately. But there are two things that make this a perilous situation for us." 

            "And they would be?" 

            "First, I'm not undergoing a goddamn spell of purity," Wes said, casting a hard look on Cordelia. "It would make my skin dangerous for Drusilla to touch, as if I were covered in holy water, for at least a week. And I refuse to live that long without my sweet girl's touch." 

            Dru smirked at him. "You know I'd burn for you, my love," she said. 

            He returned a look to her that was full of his own darkness. "Interesting possibilities, dove," he said, "but a week without your kiss would kill me." He took a step toward her that was predatory and purely sexual at the same time. Their eyes locked, the rest of the world dropping away from them, and they shivered in anticipation during the second before their lips touched. 

            "Hey! Hey!" Cordy stood, trying to get their attention before the dark pair disappeared into each other like they usually did. 

            Wes was drawn away from Drusilla's brutal, wonderful tongue only when Cordy pinched his ear. He turned to her with irritation and growled, "What?!" 

            "What was that second thing? What else will make this all, um . . . perilous?" Cordelia demanded. 

            Wes sighed, drawn back into the reality of his surroundings. "It means that I won't be able to cast the spell to give Angel his soul back, not with this taint on me," he said. "Either we find another mage or we start looking for other alternatives." 

*************************** 

            Alone in their room, Spike and Baby weren't talking. Usually this would mean they were engaged in another activity where grunts and cries were the operative language, but neither of them had such luck. It had been a half hour since either of them had said a word. Baby was furiously brooding, turning the entire contents of her brain over and over like she were kneading dough, picking out various points about which she could now feel guilty. Surprisingly, there were quite a few. And although Spike's embrace was usually her refuge, the place where she felt most comfortable and wanted and beautiful, now it felt like a trap. Downstairs she had clung to him, but now something told her that she had to restrain herself and couldn't depend on him to do it for her. He could make her feel better, she knew that. But that strong undercurrent voice that was taking more and more hold of her said that she didn't deserve to feel better. 

            "What are you thinking?" Spike asked, sitting in a separate chair with the bed between them, feeling like there was a planet separating them. Downstairs, when she was being attacked by the others, it was all very well to have Spikey cuddle and comfort her. Now, when they were alone, she suddenly needed her space. His natural insecurity and fear of rejection, which he hadn't had to worry about in years, were running rampant through his mind. 

            "I'm thinking about Steven," Baby answered. 

            Spike turned to face her, shocked. "I— I thought we agreed—" 

            "We never agreed to anything," she returned. "He just fell out of the conversation and I never bothered to pick him back up again. A few decades pass and now here, yeah, I'm thinking about my dead husband. Him and my two little girls." 

            "Why put yourself through that?" 

            "Why pretend that I have a choice?" she shot back. "I've been one happy lady since I've known you, Spike. No one could ask— ask for any better—" Her resolve of only a minute before flew from her. She was out of her chair and onto the bed, grabbing at Spike with all of her vampiric strength, pulling him out of his chair and onto the bed with her, crying into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and whispered comforting words into her ear, secretly pleased that she was holding him again. When she could control herself again, she looked up at him. "I'm sorry, honey," she said, her voice thick. The drawl in her words was lessened, giving Spike hope that this was the real Baby speaking to him. "I don't want to hurt you. Whenever I think of you I only get happy memories, and that's about all that's keeping me together at the moment. But for the most part I'm a mess. I keep seeing my life for what I've lost instead of what I've gained. Every missed opportunity, every foolish blunder, they're going through my head like a slideshow. And I see my daughters' faces, which I'll never touch again." Her tears rose once more, and she buried her face in Spike's chest. 

            Spike wasn't sure how to comfort her. She was his wife, and he'd be here for her through this crisis and any other they might face. But it was also clear that this wasn't the woman he'd married and loved for decades, and she hadn't even lived with Angel's soul for a full day yet! Every hour that went by saw her condition worsen. And that selfish bastard Angel had run out! When Spike got his hands on the prig— 

            His thoughts were interrupted by a loud beeping from the bedside table. He stretched his hand away from Baby to pick up the locator. It showed Angel's signature flashing in a single location on a grid map of the city, over and over, and beeping loudly. Spike shook the device. "Why the hell is it beeping?" 

            Baby rolled off of Spike and said, "Give it here." He handed her the locator and her eyes and fingers quickly flew over the controls. "Ah. It's set to start beeping when he stays in one place more than ten minutes. Looks like he's gone to ground." 

            Spike sat up, ready to run downstairs to inform Cordy and the others. But he stopped and looked back at Baby, who watched him through red-rimmed eyes. He reached out and stroked her cheek. "You always knew how to handle the tech toys, luv," he said. "Some things haven't changed. The important things. I'm still here for you, my dove. Don't doubt that." 

            Baby sat up also, setting her chin in determination. "Let's get this shit done," she said, planning her own little revenge on Angel when they found him. 

*************************** 

**5:40 AM**

            They'd been gone less than an hour, but when Baby and Spike returned to the office on the ground floor they found half the crew gone and Cordy, Wes, and Drusilla sitting in separate corners looking sulky. 

            "Let me guess," Spike said. "More bad news." 

            Cordy let out a long breath, her sour disappointment still on her face. "Wes can't do the spell to give Angel his soul back." 

            Spike blinked. "Of course he can. The spell's bloody there! He just did it hours ago!" 

            "And look what happened," Wes grumbled. "We need to get a new mage to throw the spell. I'm tainted. And so are you, by the way." 

            Baby stepped forward, looking hostile. "Hey! Watch what you say about my man!" 

            Spike looked at her with endearment as he put a restraining hand on her shoulder; it was such a truly Baby kind of action, he loved watching her go off on others. "I assume you mean magically tainted, right?" 

            "Well of course!" Wes snapped. 

            Spike's hand on Baby's shoulder turned from harsh to comforting, and he draped an arm across her shoulders, drawing her closer. She started to realize that she was going in five directions at once, leaping forward at each random impulse that flew through her. Baby happily clung to Spike, knowing that he could provide her some essence of control that she seemed to lose when dealing with others. 

            "What about the Wiccas? Sunnydale's only two hours away." 

            Cordy shook her head. "Both in England until next month. They were the first ones we thought of, too. I guess we could look through the Yellow Pages, but it's still too early to call anyone." 

            "No, that won't work," Wes groused. "The mage who uses the spell has to have some familiarity with it. That's why Willow was our best shot." He looked from Cordy to Spike. "Do we have any connections in the gypsy community? Their mages would have experience with the curse, and that's at least close to the soul anchoring spell." 

            "And the gypsies would want to help us because . . . ?" Baby asked. 

            Everyone looked at her, then remembered: gypsies around the world hated Angel. His soul had been securely anchored for so many years that they'd forgotten why the curse had been thrown on him in the first place. "Well, that's just crazy!" Cordy said. "How long can they hold a grudge, anyway?" 

            "We're talking gypsies," Spike said. "They have feuds older than the English language. So Jenny Giles won't be of much help, either." 

            "And the travellers?" Baby asked. 

            "The Irish?" Wes said. "No, they only deal in white magic. No help there." 

            "Wait," said Cordy, holding up a hand. "Restoring someone's soul isn't 'white magic?'" 

            Wes stared. "Of course not. Putting a soul into a demon is essentially an unnatural act. White magic preaches that souls released from their original bodies should be moved onto the next plane." 

            "That's as stupid as holding grudges for centuries," Cordy said. "But if we can't use a white magician, why not a black one? We know more than a few dark mages who'd do anything for money." 

            Wes rubbed his chin in thought. "We'd face the same problem of no experience with the spell," he said. "But there might be a few necromancers used to something very close to it. Even if we could find one and prepare him within three days—" Wes sighed heavily, looking defeated. "I still haven't figured out the hardest part of this process: how to remove their souls and hold them safely until they can be restored. Until we know how to do that the soul anchoring spell is useless." 

            Spike picked up the black-and-green book from the countertop. "This thing removed 'em once," he said. "Should be able to do it again, taint or no." 

            "Resorting to that won't help us," Wes said. "It's the cause of our difficulties here." 

            "I think you were right, Wes," Cordy said, stepping up to Spike. "I think the first thing we should have done was destroy this book." She took the book from his hand and could feel its coldness creeping up her arm. But a white light filled her eyes and mouth, its brilliance limning her entire body, driving its blackness from her. The tome struck back, sinking the entire office in black light. The vampires had no problem seeing, but Wes could now only see two things: Cordelia wrapped in a cocoon of white light that was already starting to swirl around her; and Drusilla's eyes glowing yellow with power, getting brighter as she stood and moved closer to Cordy. 

            The light that surrounded Cordelia ratcheted up in intensity, spreading from her like a tide rushing to every corner of the room. It was far brighter than the light that had replaced Angel's and Baby's souls, but it didn't disturb the vampires. Wes held his hands over his eyes to protect his sight. When the light faded Wes looked around in wonder. Cordelia still held her hand up in front of her, but the book was gone. 

            And, interestingly enough, Drusilla's eyes were still glowing powerfully, so much so that Baby and Spike were staring at her. Cordy spun around to face the vampiress who was approaching her, and looked with wide eyes at Dru's pure white face with twin lamps of pure amber burning from it. Dru moved slowly, gracefully (as always), and held up a hand to caress Cordelia's cheek. "Such pretty ice," she moaned. "Cool, luminous ribbons of silk, all rising from the spider in your heart." She caressed Cordy one more time and stepped back, standing against a wall. Then she was held tightly in Wes' arms as he wrapped himself around her. 

            Wes drew back only to look into her face with worry, one hand running through her hair. "Are you all right, my love?" he asked her. 

            Dru smiled drunkenly, the glow in her eyes already starting to fade. "Of course, my Wesley," she cooed to him. "There's no harm. I just tasted the ice's lovely flavour." She leaned her head into his palm, still smiling, her eyes having returned to their calm and direct blue. "And your aura is clean once again, my sweet knight." 

            "What?!" Cordy exclaimed. She giggled to herself. "Oh wow! Getting rid of that book was the key! We zap it gone and we have our mage back! You can do the spell now, Wesley!" 

            The ex-Watcher gave Dru a small, sweet kiss, then turned around to face Cordy, Spike, and Baby. His eyes were excited, like they hadn't been at any point in this long morning. "Sod the spell," he said. "I have a much better idea now. We just need to find Angel and we can all finally get some sleep." 

            "Found him, mate," Spike said, holding up the locator. "He's at a certain address in downtown—and I recognize it. It's Abraxas." The vampire's smirk increased as Wes groaned. 

            The two ladies in the room blinked in confusion. "Who's Abraxas?" Baby asked. 

            "It's a what," Wes answered. "A demon club." 

            "Like Caritas?" Cordy asked, with the phone already in her hand, preparing to call Faith, Gunn, and Fred. 

            "Nope," Spike drawled, finally seeing some hope as he watched Wesley fill with confidence once more. "That was a demon bar. A demon club is a whole other animal—it's non-human exclusive." 

            "So the others can't come?" Cordy asked. 

            "I'm going in," Wesley said. "I have to be there at the ceremony, and I need Dru and Cordelia to complete it." 

            Spike smirked. "I have a feeling you'll get in just fine, especially if you're on Dru's arm." He looked around at the confused faces. "The Order of Aurelius put up the front money for the place. It's one of Angel's MANY sources of revenue he doesn't talk much about, and Dru and I went in on the deal. So obviously he went there as the boss to do a little partying." 

            "Partying?" Cordy said. "Like he did upstairs?" 

            "Could be." 

            "We're leaving NOW," she said, marching out to ready their ride. 

            In minutes they were in a black pickup with a dark roof over the bed, Spike at the wheel with Cordy and Wes beside him, while the two vampiresses rode under the rear cover. They raced through the early morning streets, hoping to reach the demon club when Faith, Gunn, and Fred were due there. Traffic was already starting to gather as they neared downtown, but Spike's driving hardly slowed. 

            "If Angel is in trouble," Cordy said, "I'm going to blame you , Spike. You brought that book into our hotel and caused all this—" 

            "Cordy!" Wes interrupted. "That is patently unfair!" 

            Spike raised a hand. "Oh, it's okay, Wes. I don't need you to defend me." He drove silently for another minute and then said, "Y'know, there's one thing I didn't understand from our discussion before. Cordy, you said you knew that something was wrong with Angel because—what? He was too 'inventive' in the bedroom, you said?" 

            Blushing enough to match her hair color of the week, Cordy stammered, "Um, um, something like that." 

            "So this would mean that he's usually less-than-inventive?" 

"Well, you know how it is!" she responded, choosing 'exasperated' as her favorite exit from the situation. "You stay married for such a long time, it's hard to keep things fresh. I mean, once you're past that honeymoon period, things just naturally slow down." 

"Honeymoon period? 'Fraid I don't know what you mean, luv." 

"Oh, please! You know! I mean, you can't tell me that you and Baby are still as sexually active together now as when you were first in love." 

"No, I can't say that." 

"See?" Cordy wore a triumphant smile. 

Spike said, "When we were first in love she was human and we couldn't quite push her to the limits without breaking a bone. Not to say that we didn't do that once or twice. But when she was turned, well, it was like the volume knob went up to 12. We're having better sex now than ten years before. Cordy? Cordy, what's wrong?" 

Glassy-eyed, Cordelia said, "Baby is one lucky, LUCKY woman." 

            Wes cast his eyes to the closed-off truck bed, where the woman he lived for was wrapped in darkness. "She's probably having a better time than we are," he said. 

            In the back, Dru and Baby both crouched and leaned against the walls, their vampire bodies taking the shocks and turns of the pickup without any difficulty. Drusilla had been convinced to wear pants because of their need for speed, and had slipped into green silk Capri pants with a sky-blue top that accented her flashing eyes. Baby was reflecting a new love for all-black clothing, dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, a leather duster, and boots that could have been stolen from Spike. Her deep-red hair swept around her shoulders, having had more care and styling in the last few hours than she'd given it all month. 

            They were both nervous, because they were never, ever left alone like this. At first it had been a necessity: after all, Baby had stolen away Drusilla's Spike, taken him from Sunnydale at the same time that Angelus had gotten his soul back in '98. She'd been set adrift, and the first time they'd met, everyone had worried about violence between the two. But Drusilla had never shown open hostility to Baby, and she and Wes had already found each other by the time Baby came to the Hyperion, so they had nothing to fight over. Of course, they had nothing to draw them together, either, except their membership in the Scourge. 

            "I didn't like you from the first," Dru said, always blunt when her language didn't slip into poetry and symbolism. "You talked nicely enough. But you had other names for everyone." 

            "Other names?" 

            Drusilla nodded. "I'd hear it in your head. You'd call me 'Landau.' And you'd call Daddy 'Boreanaz.' But worst of all was that you'd call my Spike 'James.' He's not James, dearie, he never was." 

            Baby cast her eyes down. Christ, that's all she needed: something else to feel guilty about. And now she had to worry that her own thoughts had betrayed her! She honestly couldn't remember if she used to use cast names in her head back then, but it was all too possible. She used to go on the Marsters Message Board every day, and although she'd come to this world where the characters she loved were real it had still seemed unreal in those early days. 

            Dru put out a reassuring hand, touching Baby's knee. "But you stopped, dear," she said, her big eyes broadcasting sympathy. "It was so wonderful. The first time you came to see us after being in New Orleans, your thoughts were all 'Spike Spike Spike Spike Spike.' No more 'James' or 'Landau.' We started to become a family after that, and it was because you wanted it. You got Daddy to treat Cordelia like a consort, and she was even more my sister. We all became sisters once you accepted us, sweetie." 

            Baby stared at her vampire sister, eyes filled with unshed tears. She knew her place in Spike's life and was comfortable there, but she sometimes wondered if she had affected the others at all, if her presence in their lives had made any difference. Wow, she thought, and I was crying on Spike's shoulder? I should have cried to Dru, and she would have helped me get to a place where I could make love with Spike again. "I've always been curious about you. I can't imagine how you get through the world," Baby admitted. "Your whole life must be hypertext." 

            Dru looked confused for a moment, then a wide grin split her face. "Ooh! I should like to use that phrase; that phrase that everyone uses to me, but which I never get to use toward anyone." She then framed her face to look very serious, and in Spike's voice said, "I don't have a bloody clue what you're talking about, pet." 

            Baby cackled, then put a hand to her mouth. When she could control her laughter, she said, "That was a very good imitation." Then her laughter died as she became thoughtful. "Hm. You never do say that to anyone, do you?" 

            Dru shook her head sagely. "No. I understand far too much." 

            Now it was Baby's turn to reach out a reassuring hand and run it across Dru's silk-covered thigh in a gesture of comfort. Dru took that hand in her own, and the two undead women smiled at each other. 

            "Ah! Hypertext!" Baby said. "Well, uh, that's like on a Web page. You know those links that take you to other sites or other pages on the same site? Those links are hypertext. It's like ordinary text that has all this hidden info behind it. And I thought that, well, that's kind-of how the whole world must be for you. You can reach out and touch practically anything and it'll link you to some other place or time." 

            Dru smiled and nodded. She lifted their joined hands and said, "Yes, like when I touch you. I can see the world you came from." 

            "You can?" 

            "Oh yes. A dark place, it is. No magic, no vampires, no demons to make you appreciate each day. The living are trapped in their own heads, and the dead stay dead. All of them." Dru leaned forward with a secretive look. "I can see your children." 

            The tears that had been threatening on Baby's face now spilled forth, dropping down her round cheeks to the floor. "You can?" 

            "They're in a good place. They're proud of you." 

            "They can see me?" Baby could barely speak through the lump in her throat, and her voice was far more squeaky than she would have liked. 

            Dru nodded. "They can see lots of dimensions where they are. They like my Spike, they do. They're good girls. They say you're one tough bitca, and they're happy when they see you." Drusilla then let go of her hand in order to wipe the tears off Baby's face. "Don't be upset, sweetie." 

            Baby shook her head. "Oh, I'm just—" She didn't know how to end that sentence. "It's been the best thing to happen to me today, that's all." 

            Dru smiled at her. "The day's just beginning, silly," she said. "Keep watching. It'll get better." 

******************************** 

**7:30 AM**

            Inside Abraxas, everything was happy. It was starting to be the best morning the club ever had. The Master of Los Angeles had shown up right at dawn, when party hour began, and without his usual retinue of friends and humans. He'd immediately gotten a bottle of Crown Royal from behind the bar and moved onto the dance floor. It was a young group, but the Master was holding his own with the kids. When he wandered over to the DJ and got him to play some Prince, the party kicked into high gear. By now the DJ was into some hip-hop classics and the Master was half-naked and howling. 

Wrapped in a crowd of exciting, demonic bodies, Angel had one thought: This day cannot get any better. He was shirtless and laughing, spinning on the dance floor, the arms of three beautiful vampiresses draped around his broad torso. One ran her rough tongue up his back and then leaned in to speak into his ear: "I love your tattoo, Master," she moaned. 

            He turned his head and looked her in the eye. "You're lucky to even taste me, dove," he said, chuckling. "Why, if my consort was here—" Suddenly he stopped, and shook the women's arms off him. "Holy shit. Cordy is here!" He craned his neck to see over the crowd, knowing that the whole gang would be crowded at the entrance. 

            This was the only reason he missed Spike, who had come up from behind Angel and slipped an arm around his slick waist. "Grandpa," he said. "I think the party's over." The arm draped lightly around him, but the slightly threatening tone in Spike's voice told him that their encounter could turn very violent in just an instant. 

            "Hey, Master," said a large vampire near them who used to play for the Lakers. "This pinché cabron bothering you?" 

            "No, Hector, it's cool," Angel said, knowing that he'd just saved Hector's unlife. There wasn't a vamp or demon in this club who could stand up to Spike—well, except Angel. But there was no way Angel was going to hurt Spike, not with the love flowing from his soul for the smirking blond. 

            Angel turned to Spike, draping heavy arms over the shorter vampire's shoulders. He brought their foreheads together and whispered, "I'm sorry. I just had to have some fun, Spike; you unnerstand. 'S the first time in over two hundred years that I dinna have Da's voice in me head telling me I'm a loser." 

            Spike sighed heavily. "I understand. Really. And I'd let you have your fun for a weekend, but . . . none of this is equal to the tears that Baby's been shedding for the last two hours." 

            "Baby?" Angel's head shot up, and he was immediately at attention and fighting ready. "What's wrong? What happened?" 

            "You happened!" Spike returned. "It's not your Da's voice telling you you're worthless, it's your soul, and now it's in Baby doing the same thing. I'm afraid she'll be a suicide before long." 

            Angel stared then grimaced. "Ah, God. I can't count how often I tried in a century." He sighed. "I'm such a selfish bastard sometimes." 

            "Sometimes?" Spike said. 

Angel growled briefly and turned toward the family. "I suppose the fun's over." 

            "Not with what Wes is planning," Spike said, already cutting a swath through the happily dancing crowd. "I think the fun's just beginning." 

            When the two vampires broke out of the demonic crowd Cordelia ran directly into Angel's arms. He gratefully wrapped his arms around her, but a moment later she pulled away from him and slapped his face, hard. He rubbed his cheek and nodded, accepting it as his due. 

            Then she spoke, basically giving him a verbal slap. "WHAT were you doing with those women?" 

            "I was just dancin'!" 

            "Really? Where's your shirt?" 

            "Um. I don't know. I kinda lost it." 

            "Lost it? How could you lose it? 

            Apart from the squabbling couple, Spike approached Baby. For some reason, as soon as he'd left her side to retrieve Angel, she'd latched onto Drusilla. He wondered if it was the soul, or if they'd actually gotten on in the back of the pickup. "Are you ladies okay?" he asked. 

            Baby looked up with eyes of pain and tightened her hold on Dru. "Why're we going to so much trouble for me? I ain't worth it." 

            Dru lovingly brushed Baby's red hair from her face. "Don't say that, pet," she cooed. "My Spike loves you. And he's never wrong with who he loves. He doesn't suffer fools." 

            Baby actually laughed at that. "You're right. If Spike loves me I must be okay." 

            Spike took her face in his hands and pressed a delicate kiss to her lips. "You're more than okay," he told her. "You're the best woman on this ruddy planet, luv. And we're going to put you back together again." 

            The hairs on the back of Spike's neck stood up as he knew that Angel was standing behind him. He spun around to glare up at the taller man. He could look over Angel's shoulder and see Cordy fuming: obviously she had not finished shouting at Angel before he rushed over to Spike. 

"You're not doing her any good," Angel said. 

            "What?" 

            "You're coddling her. It won't help her get through this." 

            "It's called having a heart, you bastard," Spike said. "I don't wonder that you're a stranger to it." 

            "I'm no stranger to my own soul," Angel growled down to his grandchilde. "You know me, Spike. How do I respond to coddling?" 

            There was a smart-ass comment on his lips, ready to erupt forth. But Spike took a moment to consider things. He thought for yet another moment and said, "You fall into self-pity." He tried not to sneer, sensing where his grandsire was going with this. 

            Angel nodded tightly. "That's the way I remember it, at least. And how do I respond to rough treatment?" 

            "You fight back," Spike said instantly. 

            Angel nodded again. "And which do you want from Baby?" He knew he was making sense because of how angry Spike was getting. "You want her to get through this soul-removal, or do you want her to run away halfway through it?" He held Spike's hard and angry gaze, until the younger vampire bowed his head and stepped to the side. He was then met by the second rampart of Drusilla, who gave her Daddy an acid look that he never thought she would use on him. Then her eyes slid over to see if Spike approved, and he nodded once. She disengaged herself from Baby and stood beside Spike. 

            Angel put his arm around Baby and drew her over to the bar, away from the prying ears of the other vampires. He knew how the club was constructed, knew that the music from the dance floor would be enough of a distraction. He set Baby on a stool and took the next one, facing her. 

            "You're being a right bitch," he said, directly. 

            Baby blinked. "Huh?" 

            "Yer driving everyone daft," Angel continued, then sighed heavily. "I don't need this. I can keep your soul, y'know. It seems to suit me just fine. And seein' what my soul's doing to you is making the prospect of getting it back very unattractive. What do you say? Wanna pack it in right now?" 

            She stared at him in wonder. "No," she said. "I don't." 

            "Bullshit. You're half a day from giving up entirely, darlin'. I can see it. So can ever'one else. Why not admit it to yerself?" 

            Baby reached out and took a handful of his shirt, pulling him closer. "Don't tell me how I feel," she growled, her tears forgotten. "And don't tell me I'm weak. Spike believes in me. Dru believes in me. I won't let 'em down." 

            "You already have," he told her. 

            Now she was growling in earnest, her eyes starting to flash yellow. "Oh, you are such a bastard," she snarled. "You don't know a goddamn thing." 

            "I know your dirty little secret." 

            "What?" she snorted. 

            "It's this time with your soul," Angel told her. "I've figured it out." 

            Baby stared at him, keeping the fear from showing in her eyes. He couldn't have, she thought to herself. Even Spike doesn't know. 

            "I was wonderin'," he continued, "where this joy and fearlessness was coming from. I don't think I'd ever have seen it if I didn't also know where you came from. The whole story." 

            He knows, she thought. Oh God oh God oh God. 

            Angel leaned forward, looking into Baby's eyes and bringing all the force of his personality through his own. "There's a part of you convinced that none of this is real." He then leaned against the bar, keeping the connection between their eyes. "It's understandable. We were nothing but a TV show to you. Then you meet scientists who say they can mix magic and particle physics. You try it with them, and the next thing you know, you're in Sunnydale. 

            "While that might make sense to us, who see that sort of thing all the time, you come from a world where that's impossible. Magic and vampires are nothing but metaphor. So when you wake up in Sunnydale, and meet Spike, who you'd already had a crush on—well, what's more likely? That you're actually here? Or that you're in a hospital bed somewhere on the 19th year of your coma? Or that those scientists you hooked up with, rather than send you across dimensions, actually trapped you in a sophisticated virtual reality machine?" 

            He paused, waiting for her to speak. But she just continued to stare. Finally he said, "None of the pain you've experienced here has persuaded you that it's real?" 

            She shook her head briefly. "My first week here I have sex with Spike and I'm raped by Angelus," Baby said. "From the heights of pleasure to the depths of pain. Made it all seem even more thought-out. Like I was in one big Mary Sue story." 

            "Mary Sue?" 

            She waved a hand. "It'd take too long to explain. Uh, you ever see THE MATRIX?" 

            Angel hesitated, then his look cleared. "Oh, yeah. A little antiquated, though." 

            "It was cutting edge when I came here," Baby said. "The sequel hadn't even come out. There's a scene in it where Agent Smith says that The Matrix didn't work when it gave people nothing but happiness. To seem real it had to include pain and heartbreak, too. And when I'd think that all of this was virtual reality . . . that movie quote would really resonate with me." 

            "And when you became a vampire?" 

            "Behavior mod. Change of the filter took three days, it seemed, but when I woke up in a new body there was a part of me that just thought they'd reprogrammed my input. And then—God!—we go to Sunnydale, just like I remembered it on screen, and they haven't gone past the point I left! Like there was never a Season Seven because I was never there to see it! I didn't even get a chance to see if the spoilers were right and if Willow went all evil. Woulda been something to see. But I have to admit that it reinforced this feeling in me." 

            "And nothing we can do will convince you otherwise?" 

            "I don't need convincing," Baby said. "I don't like that feeling, and most of the time it doesn't rise up in me. Almost every hour of every day I don't even question the reality of what's in front of me. So I have doubts, so what! I think I've proven time and again that I'll fight to the death for my family and friends." 

            "Don't tell me that," Angel said through a snarl. "I know what you feel in yer heart. You're willing to throw yer life away 'cause it may not be real!" 

            "Tell me what difference that makes!" she hissed back. "Whether it's real or not I don't have any goddamn control over a bit of it. Shit rains down on me—on all of us—all the time! Don't you think I'd want to avoid that? Do you think I ever wanted Spike to meet that S6 Buffy?! Christ, Angel, what difference does it make if my death here is real or not? I'm willing to give it up at any time if I can save Spike's life. Or Cordy's. Or yours." 

            Angel kept his eyes locked with hers, drawing the truth out of them. Then he nodded once and stood. "Okay. Let's get our souls back where they belong." 

            "What? You mean you really want to?" 

            He nodded, smiling down at her. "I had to be sure, Baby. Your soul is—well, it's stronger than anything I've ever felt. I think that the place you come from is somehow more intense than our world. Things are a lot more complicated there." 

            Baby chuckled. "Tell me about it." 

            "Which means your soul could be dangerous. In the wrong hands. I had to be sure that your time without it hadn't changed you. It's a big responsibility." 

"It's the same for you," she said. "God, the guilt you put on yourself every hour of every day. It's crushing. Why the hell aren't you in therapy, Angel-cakes?"   
            "That's what I have Cordy for," he responded. "She's all the relief I could ever need." 

            Baby smiled. "Yeah. That's what your soul is telling me. That she's your salvation." 

            "And she deserves to get her husband back. So let's get to it." Angel offered her his arm. 

            "Let's." Baby stood up and took his arm, and wearing matching grins they both walked back to their assembled worried friends and spouses. 

            "So what's the spell?" Angel asked when they were all together again in the club's foyer. 

            "It's more of a process," Wes told him. "We're not going to do a soul removal and then restoration. We're basically going to shuffle your souls from one container to another." 

            Angel stared at him. "What, with a rubber hose? You're not siphoning petrol from a gas tank here, Wes!" 

            The mage smiled and held up a finger. "Ah, but you've hit on the stickiest point involved: the conduit. What do we have that can move souls through it but will not be affected by them?" When Angel stared at him without a clue, Wes silently pointed to Drusilla. 

            The vampiress still looked distrustfully at Angel. "Yes, I can heal you both, Daddy," she said. "Whether you deserve it or not." She turned to Wes and said, "He's not my good Daddy either. Can I hurt him?" 

            Wes' eyes swiveled from Baby and Angel then back to his wife. He decided to go with the truth. "Actually, dear, I think the process will hurt them both a great deal." 

            Baby held up a hand of protest. "Wait, we have to be conscious through this?" 

            "It'll help," Wes said. 

            "I've known Dru since she was turned," Angel said, "and I never saw her with the power to extract souls before." 

            Wes nodded, expecting the argument. "Actually, she has the ability without the power. That's why she's getting a boost." Again, he silently motioned, and everyone looked toward Cordelia. 

            "Cordy?!" Angel squawked. 

            Wes nodded, grinning broadly. "I just found out earlier that Dru is able to absorb Cordelia's demonic energy. The answer was obvious after that. Trust me, this is going to work beautifully." 

            "I'm never happy when you're confident," Angel said. 

            "And I'm always happy when he's confident," Spike said. "Let's get this done." 

            "Stand next to each other," Wes commanded Angel and Baby. Slowly, as if expecting to step into bear traps, they did. "Kneel," he said, his voice serious behind them. They looked at each other, then silently did so. They both heard Wes move and Drusilla step behind them, placing a hand on each of their heads. 

            "Wow," Baby said as she felt the cold fingers tangle into her hair. "And I thought this was scary when we were talking about it. Y'know, we ain't put but a little thought into this plan. Y'all sure we cain't do somethin' else?" 

            Angel held out a hand to her. "This is why they snuck up on me with this," he said. "Knew I'd be thinkin' too much. Take my hand, girl; we'll both see it through." Baby gripped his hand fiercely and they both stared into the shifting bodies on the dance floor, strobe lights flashing and spotlights dancing across horned and scaly faces. 

            The humans who watched the scene were all hugging each other, Fred in Charles' arms and Faith with her arms around both. It was once again time for the serious magic, for the big decisions, and once more they were pushed to the side while the vampires got the show on the road. A part of them missed it—like being forced to sit at the kiddies' table—but at the same time they were grateful that they didn't bear the heartache and scars that the demons did while always being the first into battle. Faith, whose heritage as a Slayer had singled her out for such things and eventual sacrifice for the future of the world, was especially grateful that the worst she'd ever seen was at the hands of humans in a manmade prison. 

            Spike stood apart, as usual, arms wrapped around himself, trying to restrain his emotions. He watched as Wes cast a small charm of good fortune upon their endeavor, and then directed Cordelia to position herself behind Drusilla. He looked down at Baby and Angel, holding hands and doing their best to ignore everything that happened behind them.  Just hours ago he had watched them kill some teenage boys, watched the woman he loved tear a sleeping lad's chest open with her powerful hands and dig after his heart like a jewel in the dirt; and a short time later he had kicked them both in their heads; and then less than an hour after that he was in the shower with his Baby again, the woman he thought was Baby, thrusting into her while he gripped her hips, hearing the familiar moans and thanking the Powers That Be that everything was all right again, everything was sane, he could stop worrying for a few hours and lose himself in the glorious body of his beloved. And that dream had been as foolish as the others he'd had about finding a bit of peace on this earth. He swore that when he got Baby back he would disappear with her for a while—no duties as Master, no duties with the Pride, no responsibilities with the Scourge. He and she would jump into whatever car offered itself to them and lose themselves for a while. It was something they had started to do every year, and maybe it was a bit earlier this year than what they were used to but he knew that she wouldn't mind in the least. 

            In the club's foyer the powerful players were in a Y-position, with Angel and Baby next to each, Drusilla behind them with an arm stretched out to each, and Cordelia behind her, placing her hands on either side of Dru's head. Wes signaled that they should begin by putting a hand on Cordy's shoulder. She nodded, her face a mask of concentration, and then her eyes glowed with a soft white light that ran to her mouth and filled her face, flowing down her arms until it touched Dru. Then the light sharply increased, flooding the foyer, and Drusilla's eyes burned with yellow fire in the midst of the pure white flood. Her own amazing energies burned down her arms and hit Baby and Angel simultaneously with a jolt, their bodies spasming but their heads held tightly by Dru's hands. The two vampires began to scream. 

            And the music on the dance floor stopped abruptly. The entire demon horde looked up in anger, then all eyes and eye-like appendages turned to the club's front, where a storm of white light was ramping up and spilling into the bar area. Some serious white magic was happening here and they wanted none of it. The manager, who jumped out from behind the bar to avoid the encroaching energy, began shouting directions for the back door, which he himself was the first in running to. The vampires in the crowd made their way to the bathrooms, where they knew they had sewer access. The other demons would have a tough time finding themselves in downtown L.A. at this time of the morning, but at least they wouldn't burst into flame. 

            And the white light kept expanding, growing in mere seconds to fill the entire club. Some demons who weren't as swift were caught by the edges of it and immediately began to burn and dissolve as it reached them. Their screaming went unheard, however; the combined screams of Baby and Angel were blaring through the place, as well as a suspicious vibratory sound. The vampires didn't need to breathe, and so could fill their lungs far past human capacity and then roar out their pain and shock. The vibratory sound increased, wrapping around the entire club. 

            Then the explosions began. The ceiling held several large skylights filled with black glass, which would be opened when night began and offer a better access point for some demons; and just below the ceiling, the walls of the club were lined with black plexiglass. All of this began to explode at once, pebbles of glass and giant deadly shards of plexiglass raining down onto what would have been a full dance floor. The explosions rocked the entire building, causing every bit of glass within to shatter violently. At the bar, bottles and glasses exploded like machine gun fire, falling in a straight line away from the center of activity, which was the roaring vampires and the unmoving Dru and Cordelia. 

            The yellow light emanating from Drusilla's head was wrapped in a cocoon of white, keeping it from spilling past the confines of Dru's purpose. It may have been the generator that allowed her to reach a new level of mastery, but it was also the gift of the Powers That Be upon Cordelia and would not allow more destruction than was necessary. Within her head, Dru could see things more clearly than she ever dreamed possible. These beings before her, sister and sire, lover and lover, friend and sometime-enemy, usually presented themselves as beings of power. And yet now they were as simple as tinkertoys—she was able to see them as a collection of parts, a jumble of colors and energies and protein structures. She could unravel them cell-by-cell with just a thought—an interesting new way to kill a vampire, she'd have to try it sometime—or toss their minds away from their bodies like so much trash, or give them each psychic powers rivaling her own. So much power lay dormant within them and her, merely waiting for centuries to pass before it unlocked itself within them, but she could do it for them all in an instant, just open up the box of goodies and give them the strength and command of 2000-year-old vampires. There was so very much she could do, so much she could imagine, even though the cursed purity hemmed in her sight and wouldn't let her twist the reality around them. She knew what she could do if it gave her greater latitude—bend time, send them all to other dimensions or planets, reach out and claw at the faces of wide-eyed humans who read her life as some silly bit of fanfiction floating on a computer screen—and she gnashed her teeth in frustration that she would never be able to reach that level of control again. 

            So in the end she picked up their souls like basketballs and deposited them in the correct hoops, and then announced to Cordelia through their link that she was done. Instantly the beautiful yet disgusting power began to leech from her, to draw back into the well of strength within Cordelia's heart, where Drusilla saw an immortal spider spinning out threads of white light for the benefit of one little half-demon girl alone. Unfair it was, without doubt, but there was nothing for it. The spider would not live in her heart—if there were even a chance of it she would tear open her sister Cordelia's chest in an instant and draw it out. But it would merely take her undead body and empty it out within a day, so she didn't even try. As the power continued to recede she felt a sharp pain running up and down her arms and throbbing in her chest, obvious residue from the enormous energies that had played through her body. Drusilla thought to herself that she had been pulled and tugged at like a tree in the wind, and let go of her vampire kin before her to bring her arms up and wave them like willow branches in the evening breeze. 

            Wesley was instantly by her side, ignoring Cordelia as the young woman staggered backward from Drusilla. Spike caught Cordy before she could hit the floor. 

            "Dru? My love?" Wes asked, clutching at his wife. 

            "I'm all sore," Dru announced in a tone of wonderment. "I feel like I've been ridden hard by the loa." 

            Wesley gulped. Could be good, could be bad: only one way to know. "And?" 

            She rested her head on his shoulder and smiled loopily. "It's not in my head, dear, just the rest of me. I'll need to sleep and let the memory of the spider drain from me." 

            "Of course, my black angel. We'll leave as soon as Spike can bring the pickup around." 

            Spike, meanwhile, had rushed to Baby's side, where she was sprawled on the floor next to an unconscious Angel. Cordy was able to sit up on her own, so he had left her sitting and motioned the humans over to help. Then he was there with his wife, sitting her up in his lap, brushing the hair from her eyes, whispering to her, "Baby. Baby, wake up. Open your eyes, precious. C'mon, luv, give daddy a smile and you'll get your prezzie. Please please O God, wake up for me, Baby, wake up." Just when he was on the verge of tears she finally moved her head, showing the first signs of unlife. Spike laughed out loud as her eyes began to flutter. Then she opened her eyes completely, their gold-flecked depths meeting his own worried expression. 

            Baby brought a hand up to caress his cheek. Her first word was: "Spike." He crushed his mouth against her own and she responded enthusiastically, squirming in his lap so that she could wrap herself around him. The passion and fire in that kiss were everything Spike remembered and all that he could have hoped for. His beautiful girl was back, the way she should be, in his arms as she was meant to be. They let the kiss go on and on, neither needing to take a breath, their hands roaming across each others' bodies and tickling those secret corners that they both knew so well. 

            When the kiss finally broke they looked at each other with astounded love, as if they'd been separated for months and just happened to bump into each other in this club in L.A. "Oh God, Baby, the very thought that I could have lost you—it struck me worse than anything else could. I never want to go there again, I can't live without you." 

            She cupped his face with her hands and said, "You'll never have to worry again, honey. I'm right where I want to be." And she emphasized that by playfully bouncing in his lap, rubbing her ass against his growing erection, her vixen smile saying that she knew exactly what she was doing. Spike groaned deeply and pulled her in for another kiss. 

            Then it was Baby's turn to pull away. She stood, and helped Spike rise from the floor. She looked with wonder at her own hands, then clenched them into fists and smacked her right fist into her left palm. "God-DAMN," she said. "I'm back, Spike. Really back! All of me, all back where it belongs! I never felt my soul before, never knew its weight or the feel of it. But now I remember what it was like to be without it, to have that empty place inside of me. That's what it's been like all night, working like some unfinished jigsaw puzzle with a wrong piece crammed where it wasn't meant to be. But now I'm ME again!" She giggled and turned a somersault, then leaped into the air and fell into Spike's arms. He was already laughing, seeing the change in her, recognizing the girl he loved. He wondered how he could have been fool enough to not see it from the start. One more log of guilt to throw onto the pile in his heart. 

            Angel had awakened to find himself cradled and petted by Faith. She worried over him and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. When her head arose from that, she saw that his eyes were open and he was staring at her. His first word was: "Cordelia." 

            It was a fresh cut to Faith's heart; but certainly not her first. She didn't so much as blink. "She's over here," Faith said, pulling him up onto his feet. "She's pretty out of it herself. You may want to help her." Angel staggered just a bit when he had his feet under him, but he moved away from Faith, not wanting to lean on her. He took another few seconds, concentrated, and then walked forward with surety. 

Cordelia was lying on the floor, her head pillowed in Fred's lap. Charles Gunn stood with arms crossed, his expression dour, looking around for any demon that might take advantage of their weakness after the spell. He knew that giving comfort wasn't his strong suit, so he stuck to what worked for him. 

            Angel kneeled beside his wife, glad that she was awake. Seeing her like this reminded him of the bad old days when they were first falling in love, when her visions would overpower her and put her on her back for hours despite the best migraine medicine. He felt so helpless, knowing that nothing within his power could do her any good. He caressed her cheek and gazed into her blue eyes. "Hey there, baby," he said. "Thank you for all you did. I'm back—same old broken me." 

            She smirked up at him, though he could see it took some effort. She raised a hand and he took it into his own. "Good," she said. "I still have the warranty on you, mister, and I wasn't looking forward to trading you in for the newer model." 

            He smiled down at her. "Sorry. Looks like you're stuck with me." 

            "Thank God," she said quietly, her voice breaking. 

            Angel squeezed her hand. "Cordy, I— I—" But he didn't have the words; he never did. He let his eyes speak for him, expressing every emotion he had in him, and she took them all in and sent him back the silent message that all was forgiven. "Cordy, I— I still have no idea where my shirt is. I think someone took it." 

            That got her laughing, which wasn't the wisest move in her condition. But it helped Cordy's spirit immensely. "Oh Angel, what would you do without me?" 

            "I have no idea, love. And let's never find out," he responded. 

***************************** 

            Two weeks later, when everyone was just getting used to everything being routine once more, a strange package arrived at the Hyperion Hotel. The small box had no return address, but it was postmarked from Wales. When Cordy opened it she pulled out a black shirt and two pieces of paper. She handed the shirt to Angel, who recognized it immediately, and gave him one of her raised-eyebrow looks as she did so. She read the first page in her hands with a smirk. She read the second and laughed out loud. She then gave them to Angel and left to get a cup of coffee. 

            The first sheet was a brief note, and Angel immediately recognized the handwriting as Spike's neat Victorian script. It said: "Hope things are fine there. We'd been doing our best not to think about anyone back in the States—and succeeding brilliantly, I might add—when we ran across this on E-Bay. We knew you had to have it. You can pay us back later." At the bottom it was signed "William the Bloody," and below that in Baby's precise corporate hand was penned, "Baby Roxton, in love." 

            The second sheet was a printed receipt from E-Bay. In the inventory box it said: "One (1) shirt from the Master Vampire of Los Angeles . . . . . $314." 

            Cordy came back into the office and said, "Well? What do you think?" 

            Angel looked at the receipt for a few more seconds, then looked up with a smirk. "Y'know, I've been missing a good leather coat for the longest time . . . " 

THE END (At Last!!) 


End file.
